


Torn Asunder

by epyonics



Category: Heavy Rain
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Depression is also a weather term, Drug Addiction, Gun Violence, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 09:32:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 63,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8139170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epyonics/pseuds/epyonics
Summary: A year later and the storms haven't passed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally co-authored with someone else who no longer wishes to be associated with this work for whatever reason. Regardless, enjoy our co-operative effort!

Agent Norman Jayden was late getting to the station today. If anyone asked, he could blame the rain, even though it was at the moment just a drizzle tickling the windshield of the car. His head fell heavily back against the seat and he sighed. The sight of the gray ceiling of this car was too familiar now. The back of his throat slowly began to warm, then numb, and he swallowed to push the triptocaine further down.

He shouldn't be doing this at all. He should have quit after his overdose the previous year. That should have been enough to scare him straight. It wasn't. In fact, the stress and anxiety tripled after that, which only made him rely even more on the tripto to make him feel normal. A tiny blue static blob glitched in and out of his vision for a second and Norman Jayden wondered just what his "normal" was.

Taking another deep breath, he slipped the half-empty vial of tripto into the inside pocket of his overcoat, next to ARI. He finally exited the car and made his way into the police station.

The clacking of keyboards and the murmur of telephone calls filled the headquarters.

Neither of those sounds came from Lieutenant Carter Blake's desk. The occasional click of a computer mouse was his only contribution to the noise clutter. He leaned on one elbow, hand on his chin in thought, staring at his computer screen. File windows were scattered all over the place, and truth be told, Carter had no idea what order the documents were in, only that they were just enough to cover the desktop, and a click away from obscuring the advanced-level Minesweeper window.

Charlene walked by Carter's desk and dropped a folder into his previously empty 'inbox'. Carter was more focused on his screen, however. His latest click revealed a 2. Clever girl.

That's when he noticed the secretary was still standing there. She smiled, a bit awkwardly, and motioned with a nod of her head over her shoulder. Ah, shit, it was Perry. That explained the folder. It was nothing. Charlene just wanted to give him a heads up. Sheesh, Carter had her number in his little black book, but he didn't have the right amount of piss in his coffee today to just tell her he wasn't interested. One fuck did that to women. It was safer for the workplace that he put that little confrontation off as long as possible.

Charlene put her hand on the folder one more time before walking away, nonchalant. Carter's eyes shifted to the folder one more time. He knew that style of label. A missing person’s report. It had been quite a long time since he saw one of those.

Then he realized it was the season of kidnappings, after all.

"Ah, Blake," Captain Perry was suddenly at Carter's desk. Carter jumped slightly. His hand bumped the mouse into his keyboard, and with a tiny clicking noise, Carter's eyes darted to his screen.

The little grey bomb turned pink. Suddenly, the blocks started to explode across the screen.

"Ah, F-!" Carter held his tongue, and resisted shaking his head as he looked at his slightly inquisitive superior.

Carter clicked the corner 'x' of the Minesweeper window. At least that little smiley was fucking gone from this updated version of the program, but son of a...

"Happen to know where your 'partner' is?" Perry raised an eyebrow.

"The hell if I know," Carter leaned away from his desk.

All of this was very rapidly adding up to no good.

Said partner had just rounded the corner to the sea of desks spread out across the station. Norman walked along facing forward, eyes fixated on the door at the back of the room that was his office. He probably looked like he was thinking very intently on something and couldn't be bothered. In fact it was quite the opposite; the drug was the only thing that seem to quell his constant analytical thoughts. He barely noticed he nearly brushed past Captain Perry, until the man called his name.

"Agent Jayden."

Norman stopped, looking a little tired, maybe even irritated for a moment, before putting his professional mask on.

"Yes, Captain?"

Carter gave his token 'What the fuck, Norman?' look, silently but firmly, from his desk chair. Norman was bottom rung out of the three of them, what was he thinking just storming by like that? Carter remembered when the rookie (he always felt like a rookie) used to arrive stupidly early. Maybe Norman caught the news today and already knew this case was coming-

-fuck no, Carter remembered that asshole's apartment. He had no idea where the money went, but it sure wasn't going into a fucking television.

But Perry was willing to take this one in stride. After all, "Seems like your cold case is back."

Perry folded his arms in front of him.

"Now, I won't call a briefing on it just yet, but a distressed mother filed a claim on her missing son this morning. Maybe you and Lieutenant Blake should have a look at it. Tell me what you think. Or, just act on it right away, if it helps you crack something this time."

Norman's fingers flinched slightly at his sides, the only acknowledgment of the cutting remark. He smoothly slipped his hands into his coat pockets to avoid any other obvious tics.

 

Norman glanced down at Carter, then to the file, then back to Perry. What he would give to tell both of them to fuck off, grab the file, and lock himself in his office with ARI to go over it alone. Another glitching orb shuddered into his vision, but the moment he actually focused on it, it disappeared. He was left looking at Carter again.

"Of course, we'll get right on it." Norman said, looking back to Captain Perry.

Perry forced a smile. "Good!" He nodded. "Now, I have a phone conference I have to attend, so I will check up on you two later." He dismissed himself from the conversation before he got addlebrained by any further distractions and went back to his office.

Carter looked straight at Norman again.

"Well, good morning, sunshine!" Carter started right on Norman. "Looks like you had a little too much beauty sleep, huh?"

Norman's fingers twitched again, and although they were hidden in his pockets, he still clenched his hands into fists. The very last thing he wanted to hear was Carter Blake's voice right now. He was sure the feeling was mutual.

"Looks like you got far too little." He replied as he slid into a seat across the desk from Carter.

Carter didn't make motion to change his position yet, still leaning back in his chair. He rubbed his chin with one lazy hand.

"This here's called a beard, Norman, real men tend to grow 'em. It's not like I see any ladies hanging off your frail little arms."

Carter swung a foot up onto his desk, and crossed his leg over the other.

"Seeing the spectrum of women you manage to snag, I'm gonna take that as a compliment." Norman said as he leaned forward to grab the file off the desk. Carter may have still managed to get under his skin, but Norman had learned to dig right back.

"What, for myself?" Carter ignored any other possibility, and motioned with his hand at the folder as it left his desk. "Well, Techno, why don't you take a look at that?" He also ignored the tiny part of his brain that was still thinking a little too much on Norman's last comment.

Norman did look through the folder, leaning back in the uncomfortable chair across from Carter. He resented the nickname, but did retrieve the ARI glasses from his inner pocket. He was careful not to pull the vial out with them. That would be awkward as hell. He needed to scan the report for ARI's database, which he did as he read.

A nine year-old boy, Cole Vegara, missing since early that morning when he left for school. The school called his mother to ask if he stayed home due to illness, but didn't get an answer. The mother heard the message hours later when she returned from a male neighbor's house, after which she called the police. The father, currently separated from his wife, lives alone in an apartment and lacks the means to obtain reliable transportation. As such, he has yet to be interviewed regarding his son's disappearance.

"Sounds like we need to talk with the father," Norman slid the glasses off to look at Carter, though his gaze was a little more distant. He had been hoping the report wouldn't fit the case, that there had been a mistake. But it did fit, and that made a sick, guilty feeling well in his stomach.

"Yeah, since if it's You-Know-Who, the fathers have always been shining examples of parenthood, right?"

Carter hadn't even looked at the file yet and he was already shutting Norman down. He didn't care, and he didn't feel bad about it, either. Carter shook his head, but stood up anyway, willing to go after the guy right now.

"But, I suppose leaving the office a bit would be nice. Unlike you, I was actually here all morning."

Carter was going to keep throwing verbal daggers until he hit something.

And after that, probably continue throwing them anyway.

"You know what, Blake?" Norman snapped back as he slammed the file back down on Carter's desk. "Shut the hell up! Sitting around on your ass playing solitaire on your computer and staring down the shirts of female officers isn't working! I know it's a novel fucking idea, but try to at least pretend you know how to do your job! Let's go!"

Norman didn't wait; he couldn't get out of the station fast enough after that little outburst.

"It's Min-!" Carter shut his mouth, yet again, as he watched Norman storm off. Like Carter was the only person in the office that got distracted! At least he had more to show for his actual work than Norman did. In and out of the job. Damn it, he knew he shouldn't have risked a fling with Charlene.

Why was he actually regretting it this badly now, anyway? Leave it to Norman Jayden to completely sour his taste for something.

And, of course, the whole office was looking at him now without trying to look at him. Christ, he could hear Perry laughing at the stupid drama now. So Norman fucked up saving one kid's life, shouldn't that make him more level headed about trying to save a second one?!

It just gave Carter one more reason to beat the shit out of whatever guy they were going to pay a visit to. Carter threw on his jacket and made sure he had his gun, then swiftly followed the exit Norman took.

Norman was already halfway across the parking lot, heading for his loaned car. He knew Carter would be following, because despite the man's questionable loyalty to job ethics, Norman could almost count on the fact that the man would never miss an opportunity to annoy the ever living fuck out of him. He stopped just short of grabbing the handle to wipe a trickle of rain away from his mouth. A quick glance down showed blood smeared across his palm. He realized the warm trickle was coming from his nose.

"Fuck." Norman growled, climbed into the car, and began digging through the center console for some tissue.

Carter was pulling on his gloves as he crossed the parking lot and saw Norman. Great, just what Carter wanted, to play passenger. Granted, a year ago, Norman didn't know the city, and…

A year ago, huh? It felt like he was dealing with the stupid fuck for a lifetime.

Carter's jaw set tight. He had other... 'attachments' to a year ago as well. Not just the fact that he was saddled with a partner he could never get along with and actually had the balls to yell back most of the time...

Carter stood by the passenger side of the door, his hands on the roof. Seriously, he had the better ride. Why couldn't Norman just accept that? Carter opened the car door.

Or, well, he tried to. Twice. His other hand turned into a fist and pounded once loudly on the car's roof, demanding Norman unlock the fucking passenger door.

"C'mon, Norman, I ain't looking forward to becoming the next drowning victim here," Carter snapped, having felt rain water just roll down the back of his neck. Wouldn't have happened if he didn't have to look down at the car door handle because it wouldn't open!

Norman had a fistful of tissues pushed up against his nose when he looked up at Carter through the passenger window. He was tempted to leave the asshole out there a little while longer. Let him get nice and cold and wet. Maybe he'd get sick and have to stay home for a few days. That would be great. His humane side finally took over however, and he pressed the button to unlock the door.

Carter aggressively whipped the car door open and climbed inside.

"About fuckin' time." Carter slammed the door shut, although now with less force, trying to contain his anger. He gave Norman a steady, judging look. "...What, so you trying to get me sick or something like you? The fuck is wrong with you, Norman, you look like you just ate out a whole box of tissues."

"Yeah well," Norman pulled the tissues away to look down at the red stains. The bleeding had stopped, so he folded the soiled tissues up and reached over to shove them into the small trash bag he had attached to the glove box. "It's probably just the weather or something."

A complete lie, but the truth would probably earn him another bloody nose for an entirely different reason.

"Besides, it's cold and miserable out, I thought you'd feel right at home." His voice held just a slight teasing tone as he turned the key in the ignition.

Carter was still staring at the bag. He lifted his leg and hit the bag with his foot, kicking it in Norman's direction, threatening to flip the bag and empty the contents everywhere.

"Get this fuckin' thing away from me!"

Seriously, he couldn't believe Norman was just gonna leave that there like some kind of rude asshole. Oh wait. Norman caught the bag before the trash could fly out.

"Blake!" He glared, shoving the bag behind him onto the floor of the backseat. "Quit being so... so... damn it, whatever."

Norman shook his head and glared angrily into the rear-view mirror as he backed the car up.

"Hey." Carter just wanted to get Norman's attention, but everything he said sounded like the start of a verbal beating. "Just tellin' you to have a little decency."

Carter stretched out his legs as far as he could in the car. He noticed he didn't have to adjust the seat. As always. It was like nobody else ever sat here but him. Well, good.

"Maybe even lighten up, save the throat tearing for when you actually fuck something up."

"First, when you want to tell me something, then tell me. Don't go flinging my crap around like a two year old. And second, I'm always fucking up something, remember?"

The corner of Norman's mouth twitched like he was going to smirk, but it quickly disappeared. His eyes stayed on the road, though his focus again seemed distant. Carter made a bemused sound as he looked out the window, his elbow propped up against the door.

"You got that right," Carter half mumbled. Barely a moment passed before Carter decided to give Norman another failure check. "You even know where we're goin'?"

"Sierra Vista Apartments on Fry Avenue, apartment 116B." Norman recalled the file.

For a second he could almost swear he saw the flicker of the words as if he were reading it with ARI.

"So yes, I do know." Norman smirked for real this time as he turned the car. "I'm smarter than you think I am, Carter. I'd think you'd know that by now."

"Eh, I don't know what's been shoved into your brain." Carter expressed hesitance in that Norman had perfect memory.

"Apparently more than what's gone into yours. Did you even look at the file at all?" Norman asked.

"Nope."

"Jackass."

Picking up immediately that Norman didn't appreciate an answer that brief, Carter decided to broaden on that before the bitching started.

"Hey, you took it before I could look at it. 'INBOX,' you know, that's what those things are for. For me. To look at. Then you ran outta there and I wasn't going to leave you to it alone." Carter shrugged slightly. "In case you forgot, again, my area is homicide. Kid's still alive here, right? That's what we're gambling on at least?"

Carter pointedly looked out the window.

"You're the fuckin' profiler here," Carter's voice lowered as he spoke practically right into his glove.

"Just because he isn't dead yet doesn't mean you don't have a job to do, Blake. Wouldn't it feel nice to actually save a life for once?" Norman's voice dripped with sarcasm as they pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex. Over the last 12 months he had seen plenty of the Lieutenant’s questionable practices on other cases while the Origami case stagnated.

"Long story short," he continued before Carter could pop off with another smart-ass remark, "Cole Vegara has been missing for a day and his father has been unable to come in to give a statement. That's what we're here for."

Carter wasted no time opening the car door. He was eager to punch something and he didn't want to have a little peace time pow-wow in the car right now.

"Yeah, well, that's what I'm here for, asshole," Carter said. "I stop the shitbags from continuing to be shitbags. Like killin' their kids, if you wanna put it that way, Norman. So, here we are, after the shitbags, like this sorry fuck."

Carter climbed out of the car, closing the door nice and normal this time. He put his hands into his coat pockets while he waited for Norman. Carter's hand thumbed over a partially crumpled box of cigarettes. He was tempted to light one right now, but they were about to head into a suspect's home. Like it or not, Carter was a professional. And really, he was being extra antagonizing today to his partner. They were a team and he had to knock it off but damn it, it was hard not to just slap some insult or another at Norman!

Norman clenched his jaw tight in irritation and exited the car as well. He clicked the lock button on his remote as he walked briskly to catch up.

"There is absolutely nothing to indicate this guy had anything to do with the kid's disappearance. You go storming in there assuming shit and it'll end up just like..." He trailed off, still unable to shake that dark, sinking feeling he got whenever he thought about Ethan Mars. "Just keep your cool for once, alright?"

It was more of a statement than a question or command.

"Sometimes, you gotta take a straightforward approach, Jayden." Hey, he held back his anger and rage plenty of times.

Norman picked up his pace, hoping that he'd somehow leave that heavy feeling behind as they neared the right apartment.

Carter let Norman take the lead slightly, hanging just beside and behind him. This guy better hope for his sake that he's home, Carter mused to himself. His eyes shifted to Norman's face. Then again... Norman seemed just a bit of a hair trigger today. Carter wasn't going to kick in another door and risk Norman really not giving a shit if he died or not this time because of whatever psychopath he'd summon.

Norman knocked casually on the door to 116B. He never had gotten that whole "authoritative knock" thing down, unlike other agents and police officers. He almost wondered if anyone had heard it when the door finally flew open to reveal an exhausted looking middle aged man in a bathrobe and wrinkled pajama pants.

"Cole?!" The man asked excitedly, only to have the optimism drop from his expression instantly.

"I'm sorry, Mister Vegara, I'm Agent Norman Jayden, this is Lieutenant Carter Blake," Norman introduced himself and his partner. "We're investigating your son's disappearance."

"Then why the fuck are you here? Why aren't you out there looking for him?!" Vegara shouted, already nervous and agitated. Alcohol was heavy on his breath.

"That's what we are doing, Mister Vegara," Carter responded with surprising evenness. He may have leaned heavily on the tough guy approach, but Carter liked to think it eased that odd anxious feeling Norman gave off whenever Norman was in the lead for too long. "You know already that he's missing, so perhaps you should tell us what else you know."

Norman was slightly relieved that Carter was stepping in calmly. Not that he himself didn't know how to interview a lead or anything. It was just that years of experience trained him to believe people were unpredictable. Especially intoxicated people under emotional distress. Especially intoxicated people who felt threatened by authority figures.

Norman took a long, awkward breath before continuing. "Please, we just want to get as much information as we can."

Vegara stared at the two men with eyes that were bloodshot from a mix of emotion and alcohol. He finally seemed to give in and stepped aside to let them in.

Carter immediately snatched up that opportunity. He barely nudged Norman aside to make it clear he'd enter first, keeping his hands out in the open but not in such a way that made him completely vulnerable.

Norman didn't argue with Carter's assertiveness. (In fact, he was again relieved by it.) He followed his partner into the small, dirty little apartment.

"I knew he wasn't safe with that fucking bitch." Vegara sniffed as he shut the door behind them.

"Can't say you're looking to be the prime option, either," Carter turned to face the man. He only needed one brief glance at the place to draw his conclusions. This sort of filth didn't happen over the course of hours.

If he could have gotten away with it, Norman would have punched Carter right in the back of his stupid head for that remark. The glare Vegara was throwing at him said the same.

"Yeah, well what's the point in trying if she just keeps the kid from me?" The man snarled.

"You're separated from your wife, correct?" Norman commented in a much calmer tone, if a bit shaky on some words. "You don't have visitation with your son?"

"No."

Norman looked to Vegara, expecting him to elaborate, but the man avoided his gaze and instead stared shamefully at the floor.

"So who told you about the kid going missing, huh?" Carter adjusted his stance, placing his gloved hands at his waist, pushing his coat back behind his wrists. "You don't get along with your wife and you don't see him."

Vegara made a choked sort of noise, and though he was looking at the floor, Norman could tell the man's eyes were widening along with the tensing of his shoulders. Carter must have hit on something.

"I... I know it's wrong... and I should have told his mom, but..."

"Mister Vegara, what happened?" Norman tried to sound as understanding as possible.

Vegara clenched his fingers in his messy hair.

"Cole called me from a payphone on his way to school. Said he wanted to see me. I should have told him no. He's not familiar with this neighborhood and I don't have a car and I shouldn't have let him walk but he's my fucking kid no matter WHAT his mom says and I just wanted to see him and-"

Vegara's voice broke completely then and he covered his mouth tightly to keep from sobbing out.

"Oh, well that's no good, is it?" Carter just had to chime in with his actual thoughts. His gaze wandered upward, ignoring the cobwebs he saw everywhere and started to idly walk around the room. "And you thought it was a good idea to let your son play hooky." Carter shot his glance at Vegara. "But that still doesn't answer my question, does it? How did you find out your son went missing?!"

"When he didn't show up!" Vegara snapped back defensively. "I mean this morning I figured the reason he didn't was he went to school, but when he didn't show up after..."

"Wouldn't you assume he just went back to his mother's?" Norman interjected.

"I know my son." Vergara replied much calmer to Norman's interrogating. "He would never tell me he's going to do something and not do it. He said he was coming to see me today. And now he's either lost or someone has him and you motherfuckers are wasting time!"

"Right," Carter quickly became condescending. "You planned this poorly, if at all, and had you been responsible, or, hey, made some effort to look for 'im instead of boozing it up, you wouldn't be blaming the first people your useless ass saw!"

Carter motioned his hand about with fervor as he went on, his voice getting stronger to show who was in power here, and he intentionally smacked a glass bottle off the nearest surface to further make his point.

Norman jumped at the loud crash of glass against the floor. The loud noise sent his pulse racing more than it should have and he swallowed heavily to try and quell it.

Vegara's next screaming only made the anxiety creep higher.

"Fuck you! You have no idea what I'm going through! Where the FUCK would I start looking, huh? If you have any fucking ideas I'd be glad to fucking hear them because right now you're looking pretty useless too you piece of shit pig!"

"Ah, where to look! That's our job now, thank you very much!" Carter just invited Vegara's rage, egged him on. "I've got plenty of ideas of where to look already, and it's looking pretty wise to keep 'em away from you!"

For the briefest moment, Carter's daring stare flickered away from Vegara to take note of Norman. It wasn't long, it was a quick flash when he assumed Vegara wouldn't be looking directly at his face; Carter didn't want to risk moving Vegara's attention onto his partner.

Something snapped inside Vegara, sending him lunging at Carter, fist cocked back and ready to fly. Without thinking, Norman forced himself in front of the man and latched onto his wrist. He might not have been muscular, but he was fast, enough so that he could wrench Vegara's arm around behind his back.

"That is a really bad idea." Norman warned between clenched teeth from behind the man. "Trust me, you don't want to get on Lieutenant Blake's bad side. At least no more than you already are."

Was he really... he almost sounded like he was threatening this guy. He really was spending way too much time around Carter.

Carter took half a step back. He made it aware he wasn't going to act... _first,_ at least. Carter's hands were held the minimal distance needed in front of him. His eyes settled on Norman, and he held back the smirk he felt inside. It was rare the guy ever had actions to go with his words.

 "Want me to arrest you?" Carter cocked his head at Vegara. "Maybe a little change of environment will make this easier for you. Or I could cut you some slack and just leave you here doing shit until you feel like changing your mind."

 "N-No, please." Vegara's tone changed to pleading. The man writhed a little in a half-attempt to get out of the hold, then relaxed his muscles in defeat. "Look, I know I've gotta look like a horrible parent, but I had nothing to do with Cole's disappearance. You have to believe me."

Norman let go of Vegara's wrist and watched as he fell forward to the floor, head hung. The guy surely had some problems. Likely an alcoholic self-medicating feelings of depression and anxiety, but not the type to kidnap his own son. Norman gave Carter a look that he hoped would convey his doubts about Vegara's involvement in Cole's vanishing.

Carter returned a look of ‘ _But why stop now?’_ Carter shook his head and reached into his coat pocket, quickly taking out his phone.

"Jayden, cuff the guy. He can dry out at the station, and then we'll get that statement you mentioned. Yeah, Ash?" Carter turned his back on the two, having connected with his call. "Send a car, we got a sopping drunk here for my case, if you don't mind..."

Norman gave an exasperated sigh but didn't argue. They really did need to get a statement from Vegara, one that wasn't just threats and cursing. As Carter gave directions, Norman fished the pair of cuffs from his back pocket and knelt down to restrain the suspect. Vegara yanked his arms away as Norman tried to pull them behind his back.

"Mister Vegara, please. This'll be a lot easier for you if you cooperate."

Norman's reasoning had little effect on the drunkard, who once again began crying and shouting belligerently.

"You can't do this! Please! No! Don't fucking touch me!"

Norman moved to grab Vegara's wrists again.

"Sir, don't be stupid."

"I said back off!" Vegara twisted and shoved Norman away, causing him to fall backwards onto the floor.

Before he could react, Vegara was climbing over him, fist drawn again and eyes shining with anger.

Watching this shit quickly go down, Carter hung up his phone and tucked it swiftly away. He stalked over to the fight breaking out, and lord help that man, the moment he had Norman pinned, Carter was done.

Carter swiftly kicked outward, aiming directly for Vegara's head. A knock to the temple would stun him enough to get him under control. Carter's hands were in fists, feeling the adrenaline rush of anger starting to flood his system as he aimed his heel.

In the struggle, Norman could barely see, but he felt Vegara's weight shift suddenly and that was all he needed to flip the man over. He made sure to pin him on his stomach so he could pull his wrists back and cuff him. Afterwards, Norman remained for a moment, out of breath and half-straddling Vegara, who laid on the floor with his face smashed against the floor and whining.

"Shoulda cooperated, damn it." Norman panted.

"Nice work there," Carter genuinely seemed amused as he strolled around the two. Carter took another moment to express his silent satisfaction, then reached down with a hand to grab the back of Vegara's collar.

"Got a marked vehicle on the way to deal with him for tonight. It should only take a minute or two to get here. Might as well try to air this guy out. Wonder if he's ever spent a night in jail before, huh?"

"Statistics would say he has." Norman commented as he got to his feet.

Vegara made a small grunt in response, but was wisely keeping any other remarks to himself now. Norman helped drag the man up, but stepped aside to let Carter take over. He had enough of being the lead-man for the day. However, he did fish out ARI again, hoping there would be a miniscule chance of uncovering some evidence. It didn't take long to validate his suspicions that there was nothing of investigative value in any part of the tiny apartment. At least no one could accuse him of not covering all his bases this time.

With that dark little seed of thought hovering around him now, Norman pocketed ARI and made his way out of the apartment and out to the parking lot where Vegara was just being loaded into the back of a squad car.

Carter was the one to gladly shut the door of the car. No hard feelings, right? Norman did seem to be on the right track. This useless sap didn't seem like the type to do much of anything, let alone plot ten murders without getting caught.

A year ago, he wanted nothing more than to beat Norman to catching the killer. But after they unanimously failed and the 'season' was over, Carter had learned it wasn't worth that level of rivalry. He even trusted Norman a bit now. If he hadn't been so accusatory when Norman tried to prove him wrong, there'd be at least _one_ less death in relation to their case.

Carter stopped mulling over that shit once the car was out of sight, and he turned to see Norman approaching.

"Ah, Norman!" Carter gave him a cocky little grin. "What say you, uh... feeling all right?" Carter's attitude shifted, and his voice lowered into something very much like concern. "I mean... the guy seemed to take a lot of wind out of you back there."

"What?" Norman was legitimately surprised Carter had even noticed, let alone pointed it out. Truth was the fight had winded him easily. The mixture of a forever-empty stomach and drugs wearing off tended to make him feel weak. He had no idea he'd slipped and let it become noticeable. Norman forced a genuine-as-possible smile. "Yeah, he just startled me is all. I should have been more alert."

Yeah, that should work, Norman thought. Carter would probably love hearing him actually admit to fucking up.

Carter's face was a judging one.

"Yeah, well," Carter shrugged it off and took a look at his wristwatch. "Don't know where you've been all day, but my stomach says it's getting late. Wanna pick something up on the way back?"

Carter barely waited for an answer before he started back for Norman's car.

And Norman stood completely still. His smile fell the second Carter wasn't looking. A hot, tight panic exploded in his chest and into his throat and stomach. Of all the triggers for his anxiety, this very situation was the worst. Eating. In public. And he had a very good reason.

Norman tried to swallow that trembling tightness in his throat as he walked after Carter. His mind was swirling with answers, mostly lies, to try to excuse himself from this horrible, sudden social obligation. None of them were adequate, as evidenced by the fact Norman stayed dead quiet as he unlocked the car for both of them and climbed into the driver's seat.

Carter settled into his spot in the passenger seat and closed the door.

"What, no response?" Carter meant it as a gentle prod. He'd had the silent treatment before. It seemed like Norman was always distracted by one thing or another. "Whatever, let's get goin'."

Norman was the one behind the wheel. Carter would just find out by surprise what his dinner today would be and where it would be at.

"I was just thinkin' is all." Norman replied, which wasn't entirely a lie for once. He guided the car onto one of the main streets with one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing his fingers over his chin and mouth, a common habit of his.

Carter did only ask if he wanted to pick something up, not actually eat together. They had grabbed food to go quite a few times over the months and Norman had managed to keep it together by either sneaking into his office to pretend to eat, or taking it home where it was "safe" to eat. No need to get so worried, right? This was practically routine.

"There's that burger joint a few blocks over? Could grab something to go," Norman said, voice trailing.

"Jayden, we don't always... _agree_ on how we handle things. I get that." Carter was focused on the road ahead, trying to be as civil as he could manage within a speeding steel death trap. "But let me spell it out for you this time. I mean that we, as a team, _partners, pal_ , get something, because hey, this time, let's actually work _together_ to catch this killer."

Wow, even Carter was impressed with himself. Maybe Norman's display of manliness back there helped. Or, well, the whole not wanting to see any more kids lost and families torn apart, but Carter wasn't made of sunshine and rainbows.

"And we're gonna be seeing a lot of each other if we wanna optimize manpower."

Norman stayed quiet for a while, mainly because he would have never, ever guessed he'd hear something so near honesty and friendly coming from Carter, and directed at him no less. He was completely blank on a response for a few awkward minutes before a small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. And this time it wasn't even forced.

"Alright, Blake. Partner." He may have laughed just so slightly, but it was warm and not malicious. "We're in this together now, you know. For real. No change of that raisin you call a heart."

Okay, maybe he was teasing just a little bit.

"Right, so," Carter ignored the jab as he revealed a pad of paper and a pen from somewhere else in his coat. "Writing this off as a business expense for the Captain." It was faster for Carter to jot something down on paper than to leave a note in his phone. Besides, it was funnier leaving notes all over Perry's desk than sending him messages in a more efficient, digital way, too.

"You mean you're actually writing something pertinent instead of random useless trivia to annoy Perry with?" Norman commented as he drove into the familiar parking lot and headed for the drive-through.

"Fuck no. I'm drawing him a hamburger with a math equation under it. Let him figure it out. Hopefully, before the bill arrives."

Carter glanced up from his artwork briefly.

"Why don't you park over there," Carter motioned with his pen at a spot just ahead, _near_ the drive-through. He went back to his note without second thought.

"Park?" The question slipped out of Norman's mouth before he could think about it. That meant Carter probably wanted to go inside and eat.

He wanted to say no, wanted to tell Carter he was just too tired, maybe another time... But they had just gotten done talking about being "partners"... "Pals." In it together. Shit.

Norman pulled into the parking space, turned off the engine, and stared ahead with a blank expression that perfectly masked the chaotic panic running through his insides.

Carter was finished with his masterpiece. Carter held it to his side casually, bumping Norman's arm with the paper pad to give him a look at it.

Norman startled at the bump, though he couldn't tell if he flinched visibly or not. He looked to Carter, then down at the paper, feigning amusement. "I swear you and Ash are the worst abusers of office supplies I have ever seen."

And then he fell into another awkward quiet. This was the point a normal, sane person would exit the vehicle and go inside the fucking restaurant. Right.

Norman gripped the handle and finally opened the door. What was he getting himself into...

Carter put the notepad away satisfied. He climbed out of the vehicle, and his attention turned skyward. It was starting to rain again. It was unsettling how a topic such as weather could actually be the worst possible thing for the two of them. A few drops audibly hit the shoulders of his jacket, and he told himself to just get inside.

And off he went with just a bit of hurry. With the overcast, it was almost hard to tell it was still before the dinner rush. Carter had eaten here plenty of times before, though, and it looked like the weather was probably going to chase off most of the customers.

An awkwardly quiet fast food dinner. Ah, yes, Carter was certainly a smooth man, wasn't he. No wonder Norman was-...where _was_ he? Carter looked over his shoulder.

Norman was still standing next to the car, staring at the entrance and trying to steel his nerves while the rain steadily dampened his hair and clothes. He suddenly shifted his gaze to Carter and sure enough saw the other was looking at him, waiting. Right.

He walked forward, folding his arms over his chest after finally entering the dining area. He could feel the hard lump of the vial under his arm, which only managed to make him more anxious. He barely even realized he had walked to the ordering counter.

Meanwhile, Carter had already placed his order, and was now offering a quick elbow into Norman's other arm. "What, not hungry? Just remember who's payin' for this." Carter quickly reconsidered his statement. "So order at least three of everything."

Norman stared at the vast menu, studying each item carefully, as if one wrong decision meant disaster _because it did_. He finally became aware that his awkward silence was even more awkward than usual for him. He quickly gave an order for a small drink and the most plain-sounding chicken sandwich he could find and began to silently pray that the blandness would work in his favor. The experienced part of him already knew it wouldn't.

Of course Carter didn't have to be a fancy psychologist to pick up on Norman's behavior. It was Carter's job to find physical clues in every possible spot they could ever hope to hide. And so, he was observant. Maybe Norman just wasn't comfortable with the bill payer, although he noticed Norman didn't order anything more than the usual amount when they were just passing through.

Norman left the counter as soon as he could. There were only a handful of people in the place, but he suddenly felt like every single one of them was staring at him. Like they _knew_. It was ridiculous, of course, but that didn't stop him from making a beeline straight to a corner booth.

When the food was ready seconds later, Carter took the tray over to where Norman was trying to make himself invisible or something. He never quite got why Norman was that antisocial. Maybe he just had a hard time separating work from his personal life. Carter wondered if Norman ever tried some kind of psycho-analysis profiling thing on him before. He had no idea what anything like that could tell Norman, but it was an amusing thought nonetheless.

Carter dropped the tray to the table with just enough distance between it and the surface to give it some noise. He sat across from Norman. Carter had to admit, though, at the very least, he kinda liked how tucked away this spot was.

Norman was sitting with his elbows propped on the table and his fingers laced together and resting over his mouth. He glanced at his order, then up to Carter, then back down at the food. He would have to actually eat it now. Right. Sitting here just staring at it wasn't going to make this situation any less uncomfortable.

"Thanks." He said as casually as he could as he finally picked up his sandwich and began to unwrap it. He stared at it apprehensively for just another second, before finally taking a bite.

Well it ain't poisoned.

Carter ate through all of his food at an almost admirable speed; he'd been used to that sort of behavior, having been in the force as long as he had. He tried to throw conversation at Norman. Just small things, here and there. They'd shared other cases since they were forced into partnership, but it was rare, if ever, that Carter could prove that he was a normal person, too. A year ago he would have torn out Norman's throat. Now, with how willing Norman seemed to be to cooperate, it was was starting to feel...

"Excuse me." Norman dropped his half-eaten sandwich to the table and clamored out of the booth as if it were on fire. He made it into the bathroom just in time to expel what little precious contents his stomach contained, retching it violently into the first toilet he could collapse over.

He had tried, he really had! Four whole bites before he began to break out into goosebumps and he started to feel hot and congested. And then his insides clenched painfully and he knew he never should have let himself think he could do this. Once he had finished, he wiped his mouth clean with some toilet paper and flushed the whole mess down. Even then he didn't get off the floor. He couldn't, not with the way he was trembling. Instinctively a hand reached into his coat and pulled out that all too-familiar vial.

Carter didn't react at first. After Norman had fled, Carter raised an eyebrow in empty thought. Well, his partner in crime(solving) was always a little odd like that. He'd spare Norman the embarrassment of pondering why he took off so fast.

Carter got bored quick, however. He had claimed his workday done the moment he felt he had just succeeded in having social time. He took out his phone. No messages. No missed calls or anything. He thought about playing that ridiculous jewel game until Norman came back but didn't want to be caught with the app. Damn it.

After what Carter deemed to be too fucking long, he took the liberty to fold Norman's sandwich back into its wrapper. He wrapped napkins around it, too. He considered shoving it into his pocket... but he doubted Norman would eat it, then. So he stood up and took the tray to the garbage, dumping the contents but keeping the unfinished sandwich in hand. He glanced down the hallway near the exit. Carter assumed Norman had just ran off to the bathroom. Maybe he was at the car, but, well, the fuck would he run out to the car for? Carter brushed the thought away and went to the counter to ask for a small bag for the now to-go sandwich.

Small bag in hand, Carter went to the exit and stood there, waiting. He glanced at the car and saw nothing. He did watch an old lady park dangerously close to it, and judged her carefully every moment she couldn't have possibly parked any more handicapped. It pissed him off how normal she seemed to function getting out of her vehicle. At least she didn't ding Norman's car.

Carter looked down at his phone again. He'd been playing with its touch screen without even realizing it. He checked the time. He wasn't one hundred percent sure of when Norman left, but, well,  this was taking a while. One hell of an awkward, but brief, debate in his head later, Carter decided to just... go look for Norman.

He tucked away his phone and folded the bagged sandwich as much as he could, tucking it into his pocket. He didn't want to look weird carrying food into the bathroom. He was already going to look for a man like it was his goddamn boyfriend or something. Carter shook the brief snarl off his face from the thought and just shoved the bathroom door open with his usual gruffness.

Norman froze, the vial gripped in his hand and hovering just under his nose. He was hidden mostly by the metal partition of the stall so he just waited for whoever it was to leave, body shivering the whole time.

Carter wanted this as least awkward as possible. He was going to take a quick look around and then leave, or at least wash his hands if he found... whatever it was he was looking for. Whomever. WHATEVER. Carter walked further in. First impression: the place _almost_ seemed empty...

Whoever it was was taking their sweet fucking time, Norman thought. He glanced in the direction of the foot steps, seeing through the gap between the partition and the floor the person's feet. Wait, those shoes looked sort of familiar. _Oh shit._

He hadn't noticed how long he had been gone, now Blake had come looking for him. And he was suddenly stuck in a very, very bad spot. He was sick with withdrawal, but he couldn't take a hit without the sound being obvious. The longer he clutched the vial the more his senses ached for it.

Norman's pulse throbbed uneven and chaotic in his chest and his throat felt tight and he shivered and bumps prickled painfully over his clammy skin. What was he going to do? _What the fuck was he going to do?_

A sound of desperate panic strangled out just a second before he heaved over the toilet again. What came out was only the spit and snot and bile and it was sour and awful and _it hurt_.

Well, naturally, Carter had to look over his shoulder at that sound. It was just a thing no curious human being would not do. He barely saw the shuffled feet under the door. Carter originally didn't want to be obvious so he didn't peek around like some pervert on the loose, but it was a quick deduction.

"...Norm?" Carter kept his voice as passive and flat as he could. Somewhat quiet, too. He could at least offer the respect to let Norman ignore him, but…

Well, Carter wouldn't have been happy with that choice.

He walked as casually as his concerns would allow towards the only occupied stall.

"Yeah." Norman gasped out in response. He quickly shoved the tripto into his pocket with a trembling hand. "I'm... I'm here. Sorry."

Well, that was a tremendous relief.

Carter leaned a shoulder against the joint between the stalls and folded his arms. He waited a moment, waiting to see if Norman would say anything else, waited for any sign that having to break down the door wasn't actually necessary.

"What's wrong?" Carter finally threw out there. It seemed dickish coming from anyone else, but from Lieutenant Carter Blake, it was a milestone of buried personality for Norman to hear.

Norman wiped his mouth again then cleared his throat, but his voice still came out scratchy from the strain. "Think I caught a bug or something."

He flushed the toilet and mentally kicked himself. The noise of the flush could have been a perfect cover to take a hit. Damn.

Norman took a deep breath and got to his feet, then immediately leaned against the cold stall wall because he felt dizzy. Another shaky breath and he finally stepped out, praying he didn't look as sick as he felt but knowing with his luck he probably looked even worse.

Carter looked at him.

"Give me the car keys."

Norman wasn't even going to argue. He fished out his keys and handed them over. Then he pulled his coat tighter because even though he was nearly soaked in sweat he felt cold and was shivering so bad his teeth threatened to chatter. He forced himself to clench his jaw as he walked toward the exit.

Carter's hand placed itself firmly on Norman's shoulder to stop him.

"You wait inside. I'll get the car."

Carter kept his words short and mildly irritated, just enough to cover up his helpfulness. His hand gave Norman just a slight shake before he moved along.

In any other circumstance Norman may have felt suspicious of Carter's actions, however, the only thought currently looping in his head was _go home and get well, go home and get well, go home and get well_. So he waited, staring at his pale, twitching reflection in the window.

Carter quickly got familiar with this car. He tried to leave everything as it was, but... okay. He hated to admit it, but he was shorter than the other man. He hated every time he got face-to-face with Norman, because Carter was supposed to be intimidating, yet Norman could keep his cool and still lean just enough over him. Fuck, he hated that. At least, thinking about it a lot pissed him off.

Holding back explicatives, Carter pushed the driver's seat forward just a little.

Just what the hell was wrong with Norman, anyway?

Carter pulled the car up to the burger joint's door.

Norman sniffled a bit as he watched the car pull up. Great, his nose was starting to run. At least it wasn't bleeding.

He pushed through the doors outside. The rain was steady and there was a slight breeze just cold enough to make him wince when it blew over his neck.

Norman climbed into the passenger side, too sick and exasperated to bother adjusting the seat. What would be the point if Carter would be readjusting it soon anyway? He just tucked his knees up slightly, then slumped over to rest his head against the door.

Carter started driving. He briefly glanced at Norman. He did a double take, letting his eyes wander a bit the second time.

"...You all right?" Carter asked with increasing amounts of suspicion as his eyes returned to the road.

"Just sick." Not entirely the truth, but not exactly a lie. It helped him to not feel quite as guilty as he should have. "I'll be okay. Just need some rest."

Carter didn't say anything. _Why do I believe there's something more to that?_ He drove in silence to Norman's apartment.

Norman sniffled again and hugged himself a little tighter. The drive felt like it was going in slow-motion. Anxiety and impatience made the sickness even worse. His right foot had began bouncing a little from nerves, but he was so wrapped up in just wanting to get well that he didn't think about how that could seem odd. After a _goddamn eternity_ they finally pulled into the apartment complex.

He turned to thank Carter for the ride, willing himself not to just bolt, then finally realized this was his car. _Fuck_.

"So..." He cleared his throat, but his voice still shook. "Sorry about all this. Let... let me pay for a cab to take you back to your car or something."

"Or," Carter turned to face Norman, lifting a single finger to enunciate his point. "I could leave you here, and take your car, because a cop in a cab isn't very kosher unless this is a ridiculously thought out chase scene."

"Take it to the moon for all I care." Norman may not have intended to say that out loud, but at this point he could care less. He sniffled again and flung the passenger door open so he could climb out.

The aha moment.

Carter turned off the car and leaned heavily on the center console, getting closer to Norman. His other hand remained on top of the steering wheel. He looked to have a level head about him, but his eyes were already hinting at the relentless pursuit that was about to come.

"You're hiding something from me, aren't you, Norman."

Norman's heart sunk. He was frozen for a moment in his attempt to exit the car. Then he craned his neck to look back at Carter, trying to play it cool.

"I don't have the time to try and figure out what the hell you're talking about. I'm too sick and too tired and I'm going to bed."

"Fine."

Carter said it _so simply_ with only the tiniest shrug seen from his hands.

"Fine."

Norman hesitated for just a _fraction_ of a second. Then he climbed out of the car and slammed the door behind him a little more desperately than he intended. He couldn't think about that right now as he was practically running to his door with one goal in mind.

Carter rarely felt this frustrated and satisfied at once. He turned the car back on. He'd keep it after all and head home!

No, that wouldn't work. He couldn't leave his own car at the station. It would look too suspicious. And it would be even more suspicious if he called Ash or someone to tell him he knew about it. Sure, it was easy enough to tell the truth, but... oh, damn it! Carter rolled down the window and shouted.

"HEY! _Norman!_ "

Carter pulled the crumpled bag from his coat and hurled it as hard as he could in Norman's direction.

The bag hit Norman square in the back, causing him to whirl around with a look of confusion just in time to see it fall into a puddle on the ground. He shot Carter a glare as he stooped to pick it up. "Jackass."


	2. Chapter 2

The next day Norman was feeling much better, just like he knew he would once he could safely remedy his withdrawal. However, as he went about his morning routine, he couldn't help but think back to the previous night and the state he had been in. No wonder he looked suspicious. He knew himself well enough to know that eating tended to speed up the onset of withdrawal. Topping that with the anxiety of eating in a public place and knowing he'd get sick, he knew better.

It was just so hard to say "no" to Carter Blake. The bastard was persistent. Speaking of, Norman began to wonder if the other man had forgotten that he had his car.

Carter pulled up to the apartment complex, driving his own car. It was a pretty nice year and model, an edge up from Norman's rental that he left at the precinct. Unmarked police vehicles were a beautiful thing.

Carter parked as near to Norman's door as he could get. He expected Norman would already be outside, raging at him, but he didn't even get a phone call or anything. Just in case he had to drag a sick and passed out ass into his car, Carter arrived with enough time that they could still manage to get to the office early. Carter was more willing to bet on Norman being passed out from trying to single-handedly solve the case again with his magic glasses, rather than from some sort of cold bug.

Carter walked up to the door he'd only ever been to once before, and knocked.

Norman had been finishing getting dressed when he heard the knocking. He finished buttoning his shirt, then crossed the living area to answer the door, knowing it was probably Carter.

"You actually came back to get me. I'm impressed." He commented, then moved away to grab his suit jacket and tie, leaving the door open for Carter to come in out of the rain. "I'm almost ready."

Carter pushed open the door with the back of his hand. With a sad sort of reluctance, he noticed. It felt like his eyes were moving with such restrained caution that all he could think of was the disaster of what didn't actually seem that long ago; the first and last time he ever saw inside this room.

Carter hadn't realized he had been so tense until he felt the muscles relax in his chest and his breath exhale softly, noting the room was in considerably decent shape.

Carter stepped inside. The door naturally swung shut, and he hadn't been paying any sort of mind to stop it until he heard the click.

"I plan to work you to your full extent, Mister FBI," Carter folded his arms in front of him as he waited, watching Norman.

"You might be surprised by how hard and long I can work, Lieutenant." Norman commented back. He tucked in his shirt, then set to his tie, easily knotting it without having to look. He noticed Carter was glancing over his apartment a little oddly, but didn't bring it up. "Thanks again for helping me, by the way."

Carter was hung up on his response. He couldn't quite complete the usual reflexive and antagonizing "charm" he wanted to come back with, but clearly he wasn't prepared for an honest thank you from... his rival? Carter didn't even know what category to put Norman into anymore. Carter tried to save as much dignity and grace as he could before it left him completely.

"Yeah whatever let's just go." Carter shook his head and turned his back to Norman.

Norman stared at Carter's back for a second. Something seemed... off. Like the man was uncomfortable in his apartment. Norman brushed it off, because chances were he was uncomfortable, he'd never invited Carter in before. He shrugged on his jacket and began doing up the buttons as he headed for the door, pausing just outside to lock it up.

"I left your car at the PD," Carter struck up the conversation again. He unlocked his car, but waited for Norman to catch up before getting in, leaning on his open door.

"I figured as much." Norman said as he walked to Carter's car, opening the passenger side door. "Thanks, er, again."

Norman felt awkward as he slid into the seat. He wasn't used to showing Carter any sort of gratitude, mostly because the other man rarely deserved it. He also wasn't used to Carter being so... _agreeable_. It made him curious. He tried to reason what the slight shift in attitude was about as he buckled his seat belt, noticing that his knees were almost touching the dash. Well that wasn't so surprising, Carter actually had a _social life_.

Carter let the gratitude pass.

"At least it didn't rain a lot overnight. Slept like a baby." Carter turned onto the next street. "And... it gives us a bit more time to get some work done, right?" He stopped at a light. "Since I got this feeling last night's the last solid night of sleep I'll be getting." Carter darted a half glare at Norman. "Because think what you want, I'm still every bit as dedicated as you, Norman."

"I haven't questioned that at all." Norman replied, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "At least not recently."

It really was intended to be a compliment.

"Hopefully someone was able to get something out of the boy's father." Norman was right back to business, rubbing his jaw as he thought.

"I'm lookin' forward to the hangover, makes the whole drilling information out of him thing more fun."

Carter flexed his gloved hands on the wheel just a bit. He was aware that he probably wouldn't get away with these methods if he was under anyone else but Perry. But that's what making valuable friendships were for.

They were nearing the precinct now, still early enough to only have a comparatively limited number of cars in the parking lot. Norman looked out the window as they pulled up, seeing his rental parked off to the side.

"You and I have two completely different definitions of 'fun', Carter."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Carter parked the car. "Guess it's just a matter of having the experience of it. Just once."

"I'm not sure I want that particular experience." Norman unfastened his seat belt. "And I'm fairly certain nothing I consider 'fun' would be up your alley, regardless of what you think."

"I'd try anything once, Norman," Carter leaned back in his seat once the car was off. "Except maybe getting shot. That's a record I plan to keep."

"Funny, with the way you run your mouth I always thought it was a goal." Norman quipped back.

He tried to be smooth about sliding his hand along the door to open it without averting his eyes from Carter. But this was Carter's car, and he couldn't find the handle, which forced him to turn his head and examine the door panel more closely until he found it. Carter opened the door easily, and immediately hit the manual lock. It was habit. He held back a smirk as he heard the passenger door make an odd click from behind him.

"What the..." Norman jiggled the handle for a moment, trying to figure out why the door wouldn't budge. Then he figured it out and let out an exasperated sigh as he manually disengaged the lock and shoved open the door. "Very funny," he said as he straightened out his suit and tie. Not that they really needed to be fussed with, but he did it anyway as he walked towards the precinct HQ.

"Just keepin' it safe."

Carter followed Norman until about halfway, then overtook his steps so that he could enter the building first. Once on their floor, Carter stepped into the wonderful open office space that was more his home than the building with his bed.

Carter slowed down as he neared the front secretary desk. Charlene greeted them both with a smile, and Carter was about to open his mouth to talk to her about some inane non-business topic... then forced his mouth shut with a slight smile.

"Got a lot of work to do today, Char," Carter said instead, and reluctantly took a step away, then ventured for his desk.

Charlene's smile faded only a little as she gave both men an understanding nod.

Norman watched this interaction quietly, but interested. Oftentimes he would overhear Carter making some sort of vaguely flirtatious comment with the secretary. It was a common gesture between the lieutenant and generally any female co-worker he happened across. And now it seemed the man was avoiding it altogether. Maybe he really was taking this case more seriously than ever before.

That made Norman pleased enough to smile to himself, though he didn't dwell on why. He just headed for his personal office, intending to check if he got any notes with new information on the case.

Carter shrugged off his jacket and gloves, tossing them on a cabinet behind his desk. He noticed Norman continue walking, and he watched his back as Norman kept on without a word. Well... fine. Whatever. Carter sat down at his desk and woke his computer from sleep mode. Files, files, unfinished game of Minesweeper.

His eyes darted to Norman's office. Carter mused about the time he and Ash covered Norman's desk with post-it notes. Carter laughed quietly to himself and looked back at his screen. He didn't have any files on the case yet aside from paper. He looked at his desk and saw the folder from yesterday, still laying there.

Ah, fuck it. Norman had more information at hand and, as much as he hated to admit it, a better system for reviewing what they had. Carter debated with himself a moment, then just stood up and walked over to Norman's office with the folder. As usual, he knocked once, and quickly opened the door without waiting for a response.

Norman was virtually accessing the files about the case through ARI. The fingers of his gloved hand traced memorized patterns in the air to display, then discard, various pieces of information. To an outsider it probably looked insane, which was part of the reason he tried to access the files in private. He didn't notice his door opening at first, too busy looking over the minimal new information that had come in over night, witnesses who saw Cole Vegara walking in the direction of his father's home, but no one actually saw him disappear.

" **Norman.** " Carter's voice was just shy of a shout to detract attention from outside the office.

"Ah!" Norman fumbled with his glasses, pulling them off quickly. Technically he wasn't supposed to do that, due to any number of odd side-effects that could occur without properly shutting ARI down first. Indeed, the very edges of his vision remained fuzzy and orange-tinted. He wasn't nearly as shocked by this after image as he had been the first time it happened. It was easier to carry on and ignore it. "God, Blake, learn to knock or something."

"I did," Carter resisted EVERY URGE to throw the word 'asshole' on the end of his sentence, and it was probably obvious. He dropped his folder down, which apparently already had an attachment from what little the regular officers got out of Mr. Vegara when he was brought in. "You know, it's good to still look at paper sometimes."

Even though Carter came in for, well, Norman's help, he had the need to defend more conventional methods of crime solving and general police work.

And Norman's eyes, so they didn't end up screwballed.

"Well, yes, I have to look at it in order to scan it into the glasses," Norman replied.

There may have been a snarky sort of smirk tugging Norman's lips as he said that. Still, he picked up the folder to glance through it, even though he already had an idea of what was inside.

"Change is good, Carter. Or are you afraid you won't be able to keep up?" Again with the snark. Not a new thing since meeting Carter, but it did seem to exponentiate since.

"Funny," Carter folded his arms in irritance, eyeing down Norman as he leaned a shoulder back against the closed door. "What was that you said earlier? About working hard, working long? Huh?"

Carter shook his head and looked away, trying to let the ruffling of his feathers go down.

"I don't need fancy goggles to look at crime scenes, _Norman_. Half the shit you scan in you get directly from me!"

"I recall yesterday when you didn’t even look at the information and relied on me to fill you in." Norman looked up at Blake, smirk broadening as he waved the file in the air and continued to defiantly push his buttons. "What good is all your paper-pushing bullshit if you can't be bothered to learn how to read it?"

Blake stared hard at him.

"I'll shove that file straight down your fucking throat, you cocky little fuck. Just try me."

Norman's pulse spiked hotly at the threat, though he hardly felt angry. More excited, if anything. He tested his luck even more.

"I'd love to see you try, _Carter_." He held the file out, just under Carter's chin. "Bring it on, I'm all yours."

Carter struck like a pissed off wildcat. One hand darted straight for Norman's neck, knocking the file out of his way, and Carter drew back his right arm with a fist. His hand grabbed the perfect knot of Norman's tie and yanked him forward.

"Don't. Push it. Norman." Carter's eyes were lit with fury, his jaw set tight.

He loved to push Norman right back,  he loved to goad a fight out of him, but now wasn't the time for physical threats that could quite possibly end in one or both of them dying. Carter physically forced himself to at least give Norman some room to relax back on the seat of his chair, but it took more time and effort to get his own arms and shoulders to relax.

But it was so interesting to push.

It was amusing to see how Carter both lashed out and restrained himself all at once, when a year ago the lieutenant would have had his fist buried tightly in Norman's stomach by now. Norman readjusted his tie, leaning back in his chair and casually crossed his legs.

"Now that you got that out of your system, maybe we can work together without any assault charges from suspects? Or one another."

Carter let out the breath he had been holding in an audible sigh, bitterly backing off. He carefully straightened, but didn't move out of his place. He shrugged his shoulders a bit, trying to rid the last of the tension out of his arms and hands, but he was still tingling with aggression.

Whatever you do, don't say _you're right_.

He almost had, too. They had a case to solve. They had a child's life to save.

"You really do have a death wish, don't you?" Carter finally blurt out. "So I hit a guy or ten or fifty, doesn't matter! I don't actually want to kill you but god _damn_ do you drive me to the point it really seems worth my badge!"

Carter turned his back on Norman. He couldn't even look at the prick right now. He held a hand to his forehead before the oncoming anger headache got the better of him. His other hand rested on his hip so it wouldn't go wandering, like square into Norman's nose.

This office was so empty there wasn't even the ticking of a clock. Fuck, he didn't even know if there was a clock and Norman just let it die or what. It was frustrating the hell out of him, though, that was for sure.

"Okay. We got a time limit here." Carter gave this another attempt.

Norman nodded, though Carter couldn't see it, and he still stared at the back of the man's head. He was always analyzing, even if he wasn't aware of it, his mind turning and filing away the most interesting observations for later. If Carter only knew the sorts of inferences he entertained…

"Last night I was calculating the rain level against the rate of rainfall and I put those numbers against an estimate of what the next few days of rainfall would be. Given that most predictions are calling for a downpour, I'm thinking we have 2 or 3 days, if, you know, he really has been kidnapped by... you know."

Carter let his hand run down his face as he took another calming breath. He rubbed at the short hairs of his beard as he parsed Norman's information.

"So have you got anything solid since... the last time? Something I can work with right now?" Carter turned to face Norman, his professionalism returning at last. Carter was one for facts, things he could see and touch, and, as much as he hated the policeman cliche, his gut feelings.

He made a mess of things if he tried to ignore any one of those.

"I'll _try_ not to beat the shit out of anyone you don't completely suspect this time," Carter gave a little grin.

A smile tugged at Norman's lips, but faded nearly as soon as it appeared.

"One of the patterns in this case has been the disappearance of many of the kid's fathers just after the kidnappings," Norman began. "Not all of them, but enough of them to make me wonder. And even when they don't outright disappear, they begin acting strangely, at least according to close family and friends."

Norman trailed off as he thought, his fingers lacing and resting against his mouth as he tried to piece things together.

"Ethan Mars said he was the only person who could save his son, because he was the one who hid him, but he couldn't remember what he did. He had a history of blackouts. He assumed he was the killer. All of us did." Norman's voice dropped off a little with guilt. "I think the killer must be contacting them. He must be forcing them to behave this way, using their sons' lives as incentive. We need to find out if John Vegara has received any sort of strange phone calls or other communication."

"Well," Carter gingerly took the information as he invited himself to sit on the edge of Norman's desk. "These are kidnappings. It wouldn't make sense to put us on a wild goose chase if the victims are already dead. Makes ya wonder what the ransom is."

Carter stifled a sigh. Like he mentioned yesterday, he was better at the aftermath, tearing up the trail left behind…

"And so you're saying the killer's testing the fathers, not us." Carter said it like he believed it, but part of him inside told him that wasn't entirely true. He knew everything that was concrete about this case that Norman did, he just didn't like the particular conclusions he was drawing. "We could pay Johnny a visit."

"Yeah. Now that he's sobered up, he might be able to remember something important. If not, maybe we can try to intercept his calls, mail, things like that." Norman said as he stood up. "I don't believe he had anything to do with his stepson's disappearance, but that doesn't mean he's not capable of lying. Even if he believes lying is somehow going to help."

"I'll get the warrants then for tapping the phones and getting his mail." Carter leaned off the desk and opened the door. "Unless you think he'd be willing to cooperate and we don't have to be secretive about it."

"He seems like he legitimately wants to find the kid. If the killer really is communicating with the fathers, it would save a lot of time if we worked together. Let's give it a shot." Norman replied as he headed out the door.

Carter wasn't too sure about leaving so much up to this John Vegara character, but any resistance would support Carter's case for getting warrants the proper way. He'd let Norman have his shot at being convincing.

To his surprise, however, Vegara was cooperative. Carter wasn't used to those so close to the case giving in so easily. (And without accusations!) It was almost suspicious, except Norman seemed to get a lot of positive response out of him... and, of course, Vegara only responded to Norman. Carter let that pass. The deeper they could get into this, the better, and Norman was doing a pretty good job of it.

The clock was ticking, however, and the rainfall was steady.


	3. Chapter 3

Carter and Norman headed off for Vegara's residence. Carter had his car for use of the radio and other cleverly built-in systems, also carrying with them the equipment to monitor and intercept phone calls. Carter's confidence was strong now, feeling as if he had a good bite onto the killer with Vegara on their side. Captain Perry had given Carter permission to do whatever was necessary to get his job done, too. Act on their own, don't waste time with the fancy legal bullshit. Carter looked forward to just that, too, not that he was expecting anything so quickly as he pulled up to Vegara's apartment.

"You get the stuff. I'll go say hello."

Norman nodded his agreement to Carter and exited the car in order to retrieve the case with the listening equipment from the back seat. He was starting to feel slightly fatigued and his skin was clammy as his body was starting to thrum with the onset of withdrawal. He could ignore it. He had to. There were more pressing issues at hand. He retrieved the case, just as John Vegara came running out of his front door, clutching what appeared to be a shoe box.

"Here! I... I... The guy left this for me." John's voice was shaking and panicked, and although Carter was closer, he bypassed him for Norman, even though Norman clearly had his hands full. "There's... there's all this fucking stuff inside it and..."

"Calm down, Mister Vegara." Norman gave the man a sympathetic look. "Let's go back inside and we'll look through it."

"That's interesting." Carter loved how he was completely ignored. Norman was probably more relatable, somehow... the nice one, and perfect for this pitiful pushover of a man. Carter stared at them, refusing to backtrack. "Show us inside, Mr. Vegara."

Carter had all sorts of questions in line already, but the man looked like he couldn't focus on anything more numerous and complicated than a single gnat.

John clutched the box tight to his chest, as if it were going to get away, and led the two men into his apartment. Since the last time they had been there, he had actually made an effort to clean up, though empty beer bottles remained scattered on various tables. At least he had showered and put on some normal clothes. He set the box down on the dining table and sat himself down in a chair, running a hand through his messy hair and staring at the box like it was about to grow teeth.

Norman followed after setting the equipment down just inside the front door.

Carter followed John to the table. He leaned forward on the table, opposite of John, but didn't take a seat.

"Are the contents familiar to you?" Carter asked, not yet helping himself to opening the box until Norman was near enough to see the great unveiling. It could very well have been a can of worms trick waiting there. "Are they Cole's?"

John shook his head. He reached out and lifted the lid off the box. "I've never seen any of this shit before. I didn't touch it, in case, you know... evidence or something."

Norman peered into the box from over John's shoulder. Some small origami figures among the other contents hinted his theory was on right track.

Carter reached in and very carefully picked up one of the figures, two folded points balanced against his gloved fingertip and thumb. He didn't have to spend much time observing this one.

"This is pretty telling." Carter looked back into the box. His other hand reached into the box, fingers gently pushing aside more figures to look at a handgun. Carter looked over its design, a bit puzzled he couldn't quite pinpoint its make. It must be modified. "Jayden."

Carter picked up the last notable object, some sort of cell phone, and lifted it up for Norman to see.

"Looks like you were right on the money."

A small smile touched Norman's lips as he took the cell phone from Carter with his singularly gloved hand. It was possibly the first time Carter had ever admitted Norman was right about something so forwardly. It made a slight feeling of pride vibrate warmly in his chest.

Seconds later he was back to business, turning the phone over in his hand and examining it closely. It was nondescript, modified so no makers or brand marks could be found. Along one edge was a port that seemed just a little big for a charge plug.

Curious, Norman looked into the box again and fished out a smooth square of plastic; a memory card. He glanced to Carter, then John, then took a deep breath and plugged the card in. Instantly, the phone flickered to life, followed by a message and a distorted voice: "How far will you go to save someone you love?"

The message cut to video. At first it was hard to tell what was going on, then came the terrified screams of a small child over the sound of rushing water.

"Cole!" John stood and wrenched the phone out of Norman's hands, just as the video became more clear. He cradled the phone in his hands and stared widely at the video, his breathing becoming erratic.

"Well now that we've got his prints all over that," Carter bristled with irritation, "whatever the hell that is, you think it's got a number in service?" Carter tossed the origami figure back into the box. "It could be bricked. We should try calling Johnny's number; it shouldn't be too suspicious. A guy's gotta wonder, so who can blame 'im for testing it out?" Carter quickly ran over the evidence out loud to share it with his partner. "The origami have numbers on them. But I'm more interested in this."

Carter picked up the handgun. He first checked to see if it was loaded: it was. Carter almost shoved the clip back into the gun, but something stopped him. Something didn't seem quite right about it.

"This some kind of game...?" Carter asked to no one in particular. It was certainly an odd collection of things to be handed from what was clearly the kidnapper. "Johnny, where'd you get this shit, anyway? Was it just dumped on your fucking doorstep?"

"No, I... there was this letter, and a key in it and I-" John was shaking the phone to try and get the video back, then wriggle the memory card, anything to turn the device back on. "At the train station there was this locker and I opened it and this box was in there and-"

Norman grabbed the phone out of the man's shaking hands. "John, you were supposed to tell us if anything like this happened."

"How the fuck was I supposed to know? Stupid fucking poem in the mail and a stupid fucking key. I thought it was a joke at first."

"But not a big enough joke to ignore." Norman commented dryly as he set the phone aside.

"Look, once I saw what the hell was in there I brought it for you guys to see." John defended himself as he slumped back down into his seat, fingers twisting in his hair. "I just wanna find my kid, please."

Norman's expression softened a moment, then he went back to looking through the contents of the box, also taking note of the numbers on the origami figures.

"Brought it to us after we were already here," Carter pointed out. "Whatever, it's done. Jayden, I found something."

Carter ignored that wimpy little prick and walked to Norman's side. Carter held the gun in two pieces in his hands with another small memory card.

"Looks like it was fixed to hide this. Got a pretty common model here and a less common one. Doubt we can get very far with either right now, but we've got a fucking puzzle here and I think I just cheated."

Carter smirked at that with a tiny laugh to himself.

"If we got the killer's entire plan _right here_ , we should pick it all apart right now."

"Blake, I think you just saved us half a day of work." Norman said excitedly as he began unfolding the pieces of origami. His own hands were beginning to tremble again, but he shoved aside the sickness in favor of uncovering more pieces of the puzzle. Once the papers were unfolded, he spread them out on the table next to each other. Each one had a different address. "It really is a fucking game... Shit."

"Serious?" Even though he had suggested it, Carter didn't think that would _actually_ be it. "Think it leads to the kid or the killer?"

Carter set the gun pieces down safely on the table. He leaned on one hand, overlooking the scattered papers Norman was hurriedly arranging.

"Maybe if we mark these on a map. They all seem to be within the..." Carter's mind drifted briefly to the other man in the room. "The kidnapper's comfort zone... Jesus Christ, who the fuck actually does this? Is he fuckin' with us or with him?" Carter motioned over his shoulder at John.

"He's..." Norman's eyes narrowed, studying each piece of evidence carefully. His mind raced through every bit of psychological data he had to come up. "I think he's testing the fathers. He has some sort of deranged savior-complex. There's something he wants to achieve by putting them through this insane test and the kids lives are the prize..." He thought a little more before continuing. "He's a mission-oriented subtype, only instead of outwardly killing those he thinks are unworthy, he's creating a puzzle for them to solve and redeem themselves."

"What the _fuck_ have I done to make him want to do this to Cole?" John shouted desperately at Norman.

"Besides the fact that you're the kid's father, biologically or not, I have no idea." Norman gritted his teeth, still staring intently at all the pieces.

"He's testin' _you_ , not the kid," Carter looked accusingly at John. "It's probably redemption for being a shitty father."

Carter leaned off the table. Now was probably not the time to antagonize, but he had to go with what little lead he had.

"Like it or not, how's about you broaden a bit on your failures, maybe that will actually _help_ this time."

" _Blake_."

Norman growled through his teeth in his best shut-your-mouth-before-I-shut-it-for-you tone. Then the agent looked to John, who was balling his fists in his lap and glaring at Carter intently.

"I know it's uncomfortable, Mr. Vegara, but if there is any sort of _incident_ you can recall..."

John glanced to Norman and his vicious expression softened, however slightly, before returning to Carter.

"I'm a drunk going through a divorce from a total bitch who refuses to let me see my son. Should I add the fact that I lost my job and my car? Should I keep going or is that enough evidence of how big of a fucking loser I am, Lieutenant?"

Carter held eye contact with John a little longer.

"Well, you're the profiler, Norman," Carter looked away from John and back to the table. He reached into his coat to fetch his phone. "Meanwhile, I'll get this shit checked out. I can dispatch a car to each place, but I don't know if we're being monitored. The killer might be looking for Mr. Vegara specifically to make sure he's doing these trials. At best I can have them around for safety, in case there's any sort of danger involved."

Carter remembered the father of the last victim on the case. Ethan Mars looked like he'd been hit by a fucking train, and he clearly wasn't done with the trials…

"...Shit!" Carter interrupted his own thoughts. "So every father of every victim has gone through this and we haven't noticed?! Are they the same fucking places, too?"

Carter suddenly looked at Norman.

"Last year, that warehouse, Ethan Mars and that woman were holed up there, do you remember if that address matches any of these?"

"I don't, but!" Norman quickly dug his ARI glasses out of his pocket and slid them on. "I can compare these against ARI's database for this case."

After a few moments of searching, he found a match.

"Yes! This one!" Norman held up the paper with the matching address. "They must be the same locations. It makes sense, the killer would have better control if he didn't have to switch. Fuck! We were so close before and we didn't even know!"

Norman slammed his fist down on the table.

"Hey, it ain't our fault, it's the other shitty fathers that didn't say a thing! Hey, you!" Carter looked at John. "...Good job."

It was so stark different from his attitude before it was almost silly.

"All right, Jayden, where do we go? Think we should try solving this shit in order to see where it gets us? Personally, I'd go straight for the fucking throat, but..."

"Something tells me he would not be too happy with us going out of order, especially since this is a trial meant only for Mr. Vegara. Which means..." Norman nudged at John to get him to stand up. "You have to go with us."

"Of course." John got to his feet and walked off to slip on his shoes.

Norman picked up the paper with the address to the first test, looking past it to Carter. "Ready for the most intense scavenger hunt of your life?"

"To play this fucking game of his? Fuck that." Carter gave a mischievously approving look. "But I hope you've got the places all memorized, Norman, 'cause we're going to set a record here."

Carter put together the custom gun and tucked it away behind his back.

"You got the phone thing?" Carter asked as he was already headed for the door.

"Yes." Norman tucked ARI back into his pocket, along with the phone and the pieces of paper, before following after Carter and John. Outside, the rain and wind began to kick up, and violently. Almost as if mother nature herself was trying to fuck with the odds of the test.

Norman followed towards Carter's car, intent on taking his spot in the passenger seat, only to notice John had already apparently claimed that door. A quiet, awkward pause, then Norman went to the backseat door.

"All right, don't fucking touch anything," Carter immediately lectured John once they were all inside the car. "I'll drop you off about a block and a half from each address. We don't know if there are lookouts. We also don't know what these tests include, so if you're in immediate danger, get the hell out. We'll try to have backup ready for you. Looks like you still gotta risk somethin', though, huh, Johnny?"

Carter started the car.

"Norman, try to figure out if... fuck if I know, the origami shapes mean anything. It could be some other clue that could help us out. First stop?"

"Joe's Garage, I have the address if you need it." Norman instructed as they pulled out of the parking lot.

Norman glanced around a bit, never having the chance to see the backseat of Carter's car before. There wasn't much, save for a pillow that lay on the other side of the seat. Something told him he really didn't want to know why Carter Blake kept a pillow in his backseat, but his mind kept coming up with theories anyway. (And none of them were entirely professional.) Norman quickly redirected his focus to the floor, only to spy something that only made his theories worse. Still, he managed to keep his mouth shut about it, for now, despite the embarrassing warmth making its way up his neck.

Carter pulled up to a curb a street away from the garage.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume this has something to do with cars." Carter already had his phone out, thumbing through menus on the screen. "All right, Johnny, let's see what you got. We'll be keeping an eye on all the cars we can just in case you end up in one."

Carter gave John a glance that told him to _get the hell out of my car_ , but also had at least a shred of sympathy for him. Carter was just so close to having this killer nabbed that he was behaving more impatient and reckless than usual. A moment's worth of an apologetic stare was all John was going to get out of Carter for now.

Carter came into contact with the station and immediately explained the situation... remaining vague enough to not give away what he and Norman were actually doing. Carter held his hand at the back seat, expecting the papers to read off other addresses to start setting up undercover lookouts himself.

Norman watched as John walked into the garage before turning his attention back to Carter. He briefly considered another option to place into Carter's waiting hand, but decided to stay professional and handed over the addresses instead. He quietly waited for his partner to finish directing this operation, his own gaze shifting back to watch the garage.

Carter quickly gave his instructions over the phone, and was already handing the strange papers back to Norman. "Well, now we wait."

Norman looked down to slide the papers back into his pocket. His eyes again caught that rather embarrassing object on the floor. He could choose to ignore it, and stew in the embarrassment himself. Or he could share it.

"While we wait, maybe you could explain..." Norman reached down and picked it up, holding it cautiously between his fingertips as if it were made of acid: a pair of hot pink, lace womens panties.

"What?"

Carter looked over his shoulder.

"Oh."

Carter stared at Norman and realized it was a serious question.

"Look, and you're probably not going to believe me, it was a gag gift from Ash!" Carter adjusted the way he was sitting in his seat to better face Norman. "Seriously, look at them, they've never even been worn!"

Carter swatted at the panties, seeing as how they seemed to disgust Norman.

"He was being an ass and said he thought I could use them or something to 'cheer up,' so I leave them there because who's going to break into a car with fuckin' lacy things lying around in it, huh!"

Norman stared at Carter completely deadpan.

"You're right, I don't believe you at all." He tossed the offending garment off to some unseen part of the backseat floor. "I don't care if you wanna screw girls in your car on your down time, all I ask is do a better job cleaning up afterward."

Carter made an almost _pitiful_ face at Norman.

"Hey if I fuck a woman I at least do it in a goddamn bed! It was a-"

Carter turned away and looked back out the window to focus on the streets.

"Whatever, no use explaining it to _you_."

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" Norman retorted. He had almost felt bad until then. He shot the man a glare, even if he couldn't see it.

"It means," Carter held out a hand, enunciating every part of his explanation," that I. Fuck women. On beds."

Carter glared out the window.

"I got that part, asshole. I mean..." Norman let out an exasperated sigh and shoved himself back into his seat, arms crossed over his chest. "Nevermind, screw it."

He was already feeling dopesick and anxious. The last thing he needed was the stress of wondering if people were starting to suspect _things._

"I wonder what he's gonna find in there." Carter ignored Norman's complaints. As if he said the magic words, Carter leaned forward in his seat, peering across the street. He triggered the windshield wipers to get a clearer look. "I think he's got a car. Someone's leaving the garage."

Carter kept his eyes focused on where the car went as he set his own car into drive. He took alternate streets to follow John as inconspicuously as possible.

Norman was instantly back in investigation mode. He kept an eye on the car, though he also glanced around to see any other vehicles following. "The kill-... _kidnapper_ must've left some instructions for him or something. It's like he knows exactly where he's going... I don't like this."

"Wish he could contact us somehow. We could-...what the _hell?_ "

Carter noticed John's car slow as it headed for the highway, but a passerby car horn immediately confirmed his suspicions that John was about to enter the wrong lane.

"I don't know what he's doing but-god _damn_ it, pick up the phone-" Carter was impatiently tapping on his phone, even though the connection was already in progress. "...Ash! Something's going down here, I need you to patch me through to- _shit_."

Carter saw John take off down the hallway.

Carter quickly drove for the highway, taking the opposite (and correct) lanes as John so that he could safely put all of his focus on John. Carter quickly tried to explain he needed the highway closed immediately to deter traffic for at least a few minutes.

"Jesus if he doesn't kill himself he's gonna kill someone else!" Norman slid over in the backseat to get a better view. He caught short glimpses of John and the inside of the car, but nothing too definitive. He thought he saw a screen on the dash, maybe a GPS? "He must have a route that's being monitored or something- shit!"

Norman gasped as John barely dodged a traffic pylon. It seemed like forever before the first flashing lights of squad cars showed to block traffic.

"Well how far does he plan to fucking take this?!" Carter snapped. He had to weave around traffic himself, although it was a considerably easier maze than what John was going through.

Carter made sure to switch on the blinking lights at the back of his car, but not activate the siren... whatever could get himself and Norman safely to wherever John was going, without drawing any more attention than what they already were.

"I wish there were another way to take care of this-" Carter swerved particularly hard between two cars. At least the weather had the traffic rather thin for the moment. Another hour and they'd be dealing with rush traffic.

Carter nearly forgot he was still on the phone.

"Hey, whatever you do, don't arrest the guy, okay, just don't ask right now!"

"If the other trials are worse than this, no _wonder_ the other fathers went missing. They probably got themselves killed!"

Norman watched as John's car clipped a squad car, nearly sending him out of control, though not quite. He was almost impressed, until John swerved again and the car suddenly disappeared.

"What the... Shit! I think he went off the side! We gotta exit!"

"Fucking-... _here?_ " Carter blurted out in frustration. He was looking for a break in the median, but not finding one within reasonable sight, he put his driving skills to work.

Carter gritted his teeth and hit the brakes, spinning the car as he tried to keep their location even with where John's car was last seen. The rain made the car slide all too easily, but Carter had to congratulate himself on how well that worked out as the car stopped alongside the median without actually touching it.

" _Go get him_ ," Carter barked, ordering Norman to exit the car and find out the results of this entire reckless situation. He'd find another way over there with his car once Norman had a handle on things, and once civilian cars stopped gawking at why they were now the ones facing the wrong direction.

Norman threw open the door and scrambled out into the pouring rain. By the time he had ran across the lanes of the highway he was nearly soaked, but the adrenaline helped keep his sickness from impairing him. He got to the point that John's tires skid out and looked down the embankment.

The car had slid and flipped to land on its side. The headlights were on, though they were fading in and out of brightness.

Norman mumbled a curse under his breath then quickly descended the muddy slope. He made it most of the way down before losing his footing and slipping the rest of the way down. He used the momentum of the slip to his advantage as he jumped back to his feet and ran to the car.

"Mr. Vegara!" Norman shouted as he dropped down to look through the cracked windshield. "John!"

Norman could see the man slumped against the crushed door with blood trailing down his forehead. For a second Norman felt his heart stop, thinking the worst, only to have it return full force once he saw John's eyes blink open.

"Hold on! I'm gonna get you outta there!" Norman shouted, wracking his mind for ideas. He could see John suddenly begin to move frantically, his arms and hands flailing about the interior. At first he assumed John was looking for a way out, then he saw the faint glow of the GPS in the younger man's hands. That was until John violently smashed it to pieces, then began grabbing at... something.

Norman didn't have time to speculate; he shifted his body backwards, resting his weight on his hands and aiming his foot at the glass. "Close your eyes!" He shouted a warning, hoping John would heed it, before forcefully kicking at the windshield until it shattered along the preexisting fracture.

Norman wasted no more time climbing through the hole to help extract John from the car.

Once Norman was out of the car, Carter forced the situation down in his mind to something that could _wait_. He looked at the traffic around him, and returned to the driving path. He left the lights on, figuring he'd have to make some illegal u-turn. He sped down the highway, and his eyes fell on the next exit. He was hoping for a clover leaf, but all he saw was a 24/7 donut shop, and for a moment, Carter wondered…

How pissed would Norman Jayden be if he stopped to pick up some donuts?

Carter thought he lost his mind as his expression broke into an open grin with a small laugh. He saw the long awaited gap he needed in the median and ahead and took it.

Carter called off the other cops and told Ash he'd call back if there was an emergency. This was supposed to be covert, and Carter was going to wait to call for medical assistance unless absolutely necessary.

It wasn't hard to find the spot where John's car ran off the road. Carter pulled off onto the shoulder before the presumed wreckage. In case something dangerous happened, he wanted his car to be a safe distance away. He left the silent lights on and shut off the car, stepping out into the relentless rain.

Norman had just pulled John out of the car and now both of them were lying panting in the mud.

"I… I got it..." John's voice was shaken, but somehow optimistic. He clutched something in his hand but Norman was too sick and aching to care at the moment.

"Are you hurt?" Norman asked, checking himself for injuries. He felt a small stinging on his neck, probably from scraping against some of the glass in the shield frame. The main source of pain was familiar, and now that the rush was wearing off the drug withdrawal was setting in even heavier.

Norman ignored John's faint mumbling about the bleeding injury to his head as he stood and made his way towards Carter.

"Did you hear me?" John called behind him as he followed the agent. "I got another chip! We gotta plug it in and-"

Something impatient and angry suddenly clicked and Norman whirled around to glare at John.

"We'll plug it in once we're in the fucking car okay?! I want to get out of this fucking cold fucking rain after I almost just broke my neck trying to get you out of that piece of shit car! Is that _okay with you_ , Mr. Vegara?!"

Norman didn't wait for a reply as he turned back and left John standing speechless in the rain. He did feel guilty almost the instant his back was turned, but he was too exasperated at the moment to apologize.

Carter came to a stop as Norman approached, and boy, had he rarely seen Norman in that mood.

"...Well, fuck, Norman. Don't get any mud in my car."

"Shut the fuck up, Blake!" Norman shouted, not even bothering to make eye contact as he passed. "Next time _YOU_ can get off your fucking ass and help for _once_."

Norman climbed in the backseat and slammed the door.

"...I'll get ya a tampon!" Carter shouted at the car, regretting having to get that beauty cleaned later. He looked back to John. "Hey, you. What you got?"

Carter tried to be the better cop of the two and walked over to John.

"You had to play daredevil? Was someone watching to make sure you did it?"

Carter motioned for John to go back to the _functioning_ car. They'd have to abandon the wreckage for now, but Carter took note of the make and model of the overturned car for later.

"It was in the GPS, another memory card." John explained as they walked towards Carter's car. "The GPS had a route programmed in it and this... voice. It sounded so creepy. It told me I had 5 minutes to drive 5 miles down the wrong side of the freeway I-I really didn't mean to endanger you or Agent Jayden I just... I was scared if I didn't do it then Cole would… I'm sorry, I really am." He would probably faint if he tried to talk any faster.

Inside the car, Norman was angrily twisting his arms out of his wet jacket, then throwing it to the floor. His button-up was wet and clinging to him uncomfortably and the cold air was making him shiver. Those awful, painful goosebumps prickled down his body like needles. He bent over, holding his arms to ward off the cold, as well as to put pressure on his stomach to try and ward off the inevitable pain that would come.

Carter and John got in the car. Carter's eyes were on Norman as he settled into the driver's seat and shut the door. He turned the car back on, as well as the heat, but didn't say anything to Norman.

"You're a fuckin' mess," Carter looked at John. "So, unless you're gonna die on me first, let's take a look at that thing."

Carter nodded at John's clutched hands.

"It seems like the goal is to get a series of memory cards. They gotta be clues to something else, maybe to find Cole. I already found one, so that's got to save us at least one fuckin' 'trial'. Maybe we can figure out how to get the rest of them without endangering you or anybody else. If we need them at all, that is. Sparky back there's got a real good aid for puzzle solving," Carter motioned with his thumb to the backseat at Norman.

"So glad you finally see I have a use beyond being your personal verbal punching bag." Norman groaned miserably and blindly grabbed around until he found the Origami's phone and holding it up.

John turned and gave Norman a sympathetic look. He really hoped the other hadn't caught a cold or something because of all this. He sheepishly took the phone and plugged his newly acquired chip in.

The screen flicked on to another video of Cole screaming while trapped in raging flood waters. He had been expecting it, but the sound of his son's terrified screaming made John jump and lose his breath.

Norman lifted his head to look, only just in time to see the video cut and be replaced with blank lines that slowly filled a portion of the answer.

"Wait a minute, sorry to cut the dram' short and all, but." Carter fished out the memory card he found in the gun back at the apartment. "That there looks like an address. So does that mean this card adds to it? If it does, and it's another video of Cole, they're either pre-recorded or a live feed. Maybe we should check that thing out for some kind of signal."

Carter gave the chip to John, and then looked at the highway. It was better to do this in a warm, dry, spacious home, not in a small car soaked in rainwater.

"Don't plug it in yet." Norman added. "There's some sort of trigger that disables them once they're read. I'll try to bypass that to find a signal with the the equipment we left at your house."

Norman doubled over to hold his stomach as it began to cramp up.

John pocketed the chip and phone, turning his attention again to the backseat. "Agent Jayden, are you okay?"

"I'll be _fine_... I'm just-" Wait, he already used the 'sick' excuse last night with Carter. "-cold. Cold and wet."

"Get out of that shirt, Jayden," Carter all but ordered. "I'll turn up the heat until we get back to Mr. Vegara's place."

As he said, Carter turned the fans on the car heat up loud enough they could be heard.

"Anyway, I suppose he's right," Carter continued as he pulled out onto the highway, turning the police lights off and driving, safely, back for John's apartment. "We should assume the kidnapper is watching and monitoring you. We'll pretend you're doing his crazy kamikaze shit and get the rest of the info as safe and quick as possible, pretending to play his game."

Norman barely paid attention to the rest of what was said because _Carter Blake just told him to strip_. Not that he had a problem with that or anything. He was an adult. They all were adults. _Mostly_ heterosexual adults. And what Carter and John didn't know couldn't hurt _him_.

Norman finally sat up straight and began unbuttoning his shirt, then slipped it off his arms and tossed it next to his jacket. Next came his clingy white undershirt, which put up a little bit of a struggle but was finally untucked and tossed aside as well.

Carter may have watched more of that than was necessary in the rear-view mirror.

To give them background noise that wasn't just the sound of the car, the rain, and the rubbery catch of the windshield wipers, Carter turned on the radio. There were several of them built into his console, technically, but he used the one dedicated to the weather alert broadcast for an immediate update on the rainfall. They were on a time limit, after all... always that fucking time limit.

The car chase put them more miles out than Carter remembered, so the trip took quite a few minutes, but at least the interior of the car was toasty.

Carter honestly debated stopping by Norman's place to get some decent clothes. Carter himself was the most well-off here, and John had his entire wardrobe where they were headed.

"So... you both doin' okay?" Carter threw out the opportunity for just such a suggestion. "I don't think blood is a normal part of appearance."

"Heh." John smiled a for half a second and touched his forehead where his cut was starting to scab. Blood was drying in a trail down the side of his face, but there was nothing he could do about it now. "I'm okay, surprisingly. My side hurts a little, probably bruised my ribs up. Guess that's what I get."

Norman remained quiet, save for the occasional sniffle. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, more to hide the anxious trembling of his hands than to fend off cold. Blake had made sure to remedy that, and unknowingly ruined his excuse. Now he was paranoid on top of the withdrawal. He glanced forward and caught a glimpse of himself in the rear-view mirror.

Jesus, he looked like a fucking zombie.

Carter pulled into the apartment's parking lot and found the closest spot to John's place to park the car. John not having a vehicle was really convenient for this one instance.

"Okay, Johnny, we're gonna set up a little HQ for ourselves here. Get the door for us."

Carter looked out the window.

"The rain's not strong at the moment so we better slip in now."

Carter quickly got out of the car once he said that. He didn't follow John, though... instead, Carter walked around the back of the car to get to Norman's door. Without second thought, Carter shrugged out of his long jacket, and passed it to Norman before he could exit the car into the unpleasant weather.

"Wear that, bring your stuff in." Carter seemed almost irritated, but really, he was just thinking about how these two sopping wet idiots ruined his car. Not wanting to end up like Norman, though, Carter went after John to get indoors.

Norman stared after Carter for a moment, holding the jacket dumbly in his hands.

That was actually _nice_ …

He brushed any other wandering thoughts aside and slipped the jacket on over his bare arms and shoulders. He climbed out of the car and gathered up his wet, muddy clothes before heading in after the other two. John met him just as he was closing the front door.

"Here, I'll put your clothes in the laundry while we're here." John offered.

Norman moved to hand the pile over, then thought again about it and pulled back. "No."

John gave him a confused look and Norman tried to save himself.

"I'll do it. Sorry. I'm just... particular."

Yes, that was it. It absolutely had nothing to do with the incriminating blue vial in the pocket of his dirty coat.

"Okaaay?" John still seemed skeptical, but didn't want to press further. Instead, he directed Norman towards the laundry room and then backed off.

Carter watched Norman with a sort of curiosity. He was at the table, clearing it of everything except the contents of the shoebox. He finally tore his eyes away from Norman to take a look at the shoebox itself to judge if that was worth keeping on the table with the rest of the gathered evidence. He didn't quite think the killer would be stupid enough to give away the exact shoe he wore.

"Don't forget the papers, Norm," Carter idly shouted the reminder as he put the shoebox on the edge of the table.

"Got 'em, _CART_." Norman replied sarcastically before he shut the door to the laundry room behind him. He rest his back against the door for a second, exhaling a stress-filled sigh. Then he perked, getting an idea, and eagerly felt along his side for the handle and _yes, a lock_. He couldn't have clicked it faster. The clothes in his arms dropped heavily to the floor and he got to his knees to dig through the pockets of his coat for that fucking vial.

"Agent Jayden is kind of..." John trailed off as he slid into one of the dining room chairs. The last thing he wanted to do was insult Lieutenant Blake's partner, but judging from the way the two acted, the older man probably had many more unkind adjectives in mind. "He's a little strange."

"Yeah, well, you know, those federal types," Carter deemed the topic of Norman as unimportant as he sat at the table across from John. Without his jacket on, both of his guns were in plain sight. He put one of them on the table, however, after removing the clip again, seeing as how it was so generously provided by the killer. "So you can only load that information once? We need to write down whatever message we got from that thing."

"Okay, I'll get some paper." John nodded and stood to go dig through the junk drawer in the kitchen. If this were any other situation he would almost feel excited, helping out with a real investigation. Cole would be so proud of him…

He stopped suddenly, feeling a familiar hot stinging in his eyes. Fuck.

Carter could pick up on the tension, of course.

"It's good to keep calm during this situation, Mr. Vegara." Carter again picked apart the gun handed to them by the killer. "It's helpful. We're finally gonna get this guy and it's all thanks to you."

"I just wanna get my kid." John wiped his eyes, sucked in a shaky breath and grabbed the supplies he needed. "I know you've had this case going for however long and shit but..."

John tossed the pad of paper and pen on the table as he sat back down.

"I just want my boy back. I don't care if we catch the prick or not... I just want Cole to be alive."

In the laundry room, Norman pulled out the vial and twisted off the top and threw the top to the floor. All he cared about was the hit, which he got, inhaling nice and deep like the good little addict he was. He exhaled low, welcoming the warmth and the numbness slowly rolling down the back of his throat.

Norman sat down on the floor, his back pressed against the washing machine. He would get to cleaning his clothes, but right now all he wanted was to feel _okay_. To bask in not even a high, just the feeling of being _normal_. He rarely felt high anymore.

He sighed and a relieved smile spread over his lips. He could almost feel his pupils dilating. He pulled his jacket tighter to savor the warm buzzing in his pulse. No, wait, it was Carter's jacket. Right.

It was nice. Softer than he thought it would be. Comfortable. He pulled it even closer. It even smelled nice. Like something in a distant memory. Something safe. Like _him_.

And Norman laughed quietly at himself for letting himself even think this way about Carter Blake.

"All right, let's pull together what we got."

Carter went to work.

Of course, this would be a hell of a lot easier with the papers Norman snatched. Provided they weren't fucking ruined. Carter could care less if Norman and his goggles kept out of the glory of solving the case, but he wanted everything to be in front of him that he could use.

Carter held back the bitter words he had to say about this moment.

"I'll be back. Stay here." Carter stood up and walked to where Norman had vanished to. Carter took note of his gun, just in case John went crazy and figured out how to reassemble a handgun and chase after him. You never know.

There was a shut door, so Carter took his chances with it. He tried to open it. Locked.

Really?

Carter thudded a fist once on the door.

"Norman, what the fuck, either get out here or hand me the papers. You think I'm gonna make fun of your girly chest or dick size or something? Jesus Christ."

Norman nearly jumped out of his skin. Time finally snapped back into place. Shit. He grabbed up the lid for the vial and, with a cursory glance, risked another quick hit, before capping it and shoving into the jacket pocket. He grabbed up his clothes and shoved them into the washer, only to snatch them back out to dig ARI and the notes out, then shove them back in.

He dumped in an unspecified amount of detergent in, slammed the door shut, and set it to a random setting and hoped for the best. Gripping the papers, Norman sniffed in and wiped his nose with the back of his hand to rid it of any residue, before finally unlocking and throwing open the door.

"Here, god damn it." He stepped forward and shoved the wrinkled papers into Carter's chest.

Carter was surprised the door even opened. He scrambled to get his hands on the papers, flattening his hands against them and stepping backwards so Norman wouldn't knock him over. He glared at Norman. Then he glanced down at around the center of his chest and looked back up at him.

"Well now that you look like a fuckin' flasher, let's hope you do your job."

Carter still held the papers to his chest with one hand while the other reached out and grabbed the coat by the back of its collar. He shoved Norman towards the table.

Norman would usually make some sort of sardonic comeback, but he was feeling _nothing_ for once, and no one, not even Carter, was gonna ruin this perfect numb. He stumbled towards the table, pulling the coat closed and buttoning it up before he sat down. His slacks were still filthy, but like hell was he going to sit around Mr. Vegara's table in his underpants and Carter's jacket like some kind of-

"Agent Jayden!" Came John's voice, and only then did Norman look to him, realizing the other man must have been talking to him and he didn't notice.

"Yes?" Norman replied, clearing his throat.

"I asked if you'd like to change into some of my clothes, until you can wash all of yours." John looked concerned, so Norman smiled kindly at him.

"Oh, no. Sorry, I was thinking about the case. Maybe later."

John seemed to accept his lie, and even smiled back.

Carter watched Norman's back. Something didn't seem quite right with him. Maybe it was the fact that jacket looked like it fit properly on him. Whatever, there wasn't anything unusual.

"Mr. Vegara," Carter again ignored the strange gut feeling that he should pursue this odd little anomaly. "How's about you get your wounds cleaned up. Agent Jayden and I will set up the equipment we were going to do and get back to work."

And help himself to John's coffee maker.

John looked as if he were going to protest, then seemed to reconsider, glancing between Norman and Carter. He finally nodded and stood up.

"Okay, and I'll grab a clean set of clothes for you, Agent Jayden. For whenever you want them."

John gave Norman a pat on the shoulder before disappearing into the living room and then heading up the stairs.

Norman sighed softly. He told himself to get up and start getting the mini headquarters set up, but he didn't want to move.

Indeed, once John was out of sight, Carter started to make a pot of coffee, figuring out how this particular maker worked along the way. He glanced at Norman. Back to the coffee maker. Back to Norman.

"Hey, Norman," Carter started. Well, no backing out of it now. "You, uh... you're not exhausted or anything, are you?" Carter reconsidered his wording. "I mean, sorry about the, eh... car thing earlier. It wasn't planned out very well. I know you don't like it when... it's just how I act quickly, okay?"

And that was the closest Agent Norman Jayden was going to get to an apology from Lieutenant Carter Blake.

"Carter, I've been in your company for a year, willingly or otherwise. I'm used to it." Norman smirked, finally pulling himself to his feet with a stretch.

"It's okay." Norman grabbed up some of the equipment and began carefully setting it up. "Though, if you really feel that bad about it, you could get me a cup of that coffee."

"When the fuck did I say I felt _bad_ about it?" Carter found another clean mug and set it beside the one he had claimed for himself. "Don't confuse pity for sympathy..."

Carter trailed off with his insult about calling Norman a fucking asshole again. It was steadily seeming less and less worth it.

"I've found pity is the closest thing to sympathy you have." Norman flashed a grin over the device he was currently setting up, even though Carter couldn't see it.

Hey, Norman inconvenienced Carter. The plan was to get a cup of coffee and sit down with the origami evidence. Now he had to set those papers down first on the table to share with the others if he had to make two cups.

Norman, however, could very much see that Carter had actually gotten a second cup out, and that made his grin fade into a real smile. He looked back at his work and tried to ignore the sudden warmth fluttering in his throat. Norman stood up quietly. He walked over to Blake and took the papers before he could set them down, calm and gentle. Then he set to spreading them out in order, matching the memory cards to their origami when available. He silently began to make a timeline, writing down notes and ideas as he went. One of, if not the only, good side effect of the drug, was its ability to make him focus.

Carter just stood there and watched Norman in amazement. The coffee was done. He poured the cups without looking away from Norman. Carter took a sip of his coffee black, still not having said a word as he watched Norman _work_. Norman was a wreck for two days, and now he was sorting through this like he was filing away expired bank statements. Carter set the other mug down beside Norman.

"...It's black," Carter told him. He wasn't about to ask if Norman wanted anything added to it.

Fuck, Carter wasn't even sure Norman acknowledged his very existence right now.

Norman noticed, if only just, as he finished the timeline and went over his notes. His lips were moving in silent sentences. It was another habit, and one he barely realized he did. Every once in awhile he would make a noise that sounded like it could have been a whisper, only to have it disappear. He arranged and rearranged.

Picked up the newest memory card, held it to the light, made some notes, then set it back down.

Norman finally touched his mug, but held it with one hand while the other wrote for a moment. He sipped, made a soft hiss at the heat, then set it aside. He didn't even hear John's footfalls coming down the stairs, too focused on looking for the correct port to attach to his data scanner so he could sweep the memory card.

Carter's own concentration broke, and he looked up at John. "Ah, there you are. Suppose you didn't find any more weird shit while you were away?"

"Thankfully no." John said, pausing in the archway between the dining and living room. He watched Norman, almost expecting the other man to at least glance his direction. When that didn't happen, he simply set the clean clothing he carried on the nearby counter.

Norman was busy hooking up a laptop to his diagnostic tools, too busy to care about anything but the case. Just the case. They were closer than ever. He almost didn't realize he almost knocked his coffee off the table until he had to save it and some of the hot fluid spilled onto his hand.

"Ah, shit." He groaned and set the mug back down. He turned to search for a towel and froze, finally realizing John had returned. And Carter was still there. And he wasn't sure how long it had been, but he was suddenly hyper aware of the quiet.

John quickly crossed the kitchen to hand Norman a towel, which was accepted easily.

"Well, hello, hello!" Carter loudly broke the silence. "Welcome back to fuckin' Earth, Norman!"

Carter sat down a table corner away from Norman.

"I figured I'd let ya just do whatever the hell it is you do and tell me the results. So! Results." Carter shook his head in an expecting manner. "Care to share? Remember, teamwork!"

The tinge of sarcasm on every word wasn't meant to wash out the seriousness that Carter really did expect to be told everything useful.

Norman gave Carter a _look_ , but remained professional as wiped his hand clean and explained. "Well, while this guy is technologically literate, the types of programming he's using isn't too out there. I figured it would have to be something easy, to fit into such a small device, and inexpensive so it wouldn't be easily traced. It looks like working around the code will be easy enough, as soon as I can sort through all of it."

"You're going to get the information off it without the creepy phone?" Carter seemed impressed, even interested. "We don't have all of the cards yet. Think we can cheat a little more at this fucker's game?"

Carter pulled the gun parts over to between them.

"This one here," Carter pointed to the darker metallic parts. "Look closely at it. Pretty sure even you've got a gun like this one. Remember you last mentioned something about a..."

Carter hesitated. He didn't want to be blurting certain information around a public citizen like John... but John went out on a limb and gave them all this information, willingly.

"A cop?" Carter continued. "I think you're right. I know this is a common firearm, but the general public usually tries to be more creative about this stuff. Also, the fact this is some kinda Frankenstein, say it were to be fired and we found it..."

Carter went off into his explanations.

It was strange how well he and Norman got along right now, when a year ago they were quite literally throwing anything they could get their hands on at each other.

After what felt like hours, Carter leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

"Look, Jayden," Carter sounded tired. "We need to stagger the shifts a little. You take a break first and I'll contact Ash and get our shit on the same page."

"No. I can keep going. I just..." A yawn climbed out of Norman's throat, betraying him. "I'll just drink some more coffee and I'll be okay."

Maybe not. He hadn't left the dining room and he was still in his dirty pants and Carter's jacket. He didn't want to look like he was slacking off, even though John was already passed out in a chair in the corner of the kitchen.

Carter snatched the current papers they were working on and hid the information from Norman's line of sight.

"Don't argue. Even if it's for an hour, take your damn focus off this case, all right? We're this fucking close, yeah, but I don't need you burning out when we're still at the beginning. We got a little time to work with."

Carter was referring to the rainfall, which at the moment was very light. He wasn't about to mention the upcoming storm in the forecast.

The killer was good with his timing, and they already had more of the game done than they should have at this point.

"Just get to the car," Carter reached for the pocket on his coat, trying to slip his hand in from around the table. "Keys are over here. You look like the fucking bodies I see every week."

"You really need to say that?" Norman yawned again, then suddenly, and very deliberately, took a step backwards out of Carter's reach. It was awkward, but necessary, once he remembered just what was also in that pocket. "Okay! I'll go take a nap in the car."

"I'm a charmer," Carter boasted.

"You're something..." Norman commented as he headed out to the car, hands tucked nervously in the coat pockets.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, they were back on their scavenger hunt. It all seemed considerably easy with all the origami pieces handed to them that Carter wondered why none of the other fathers came forth. He remembered the first time Norman actually hit him, during that arrest of Ethan Mars. His memories of the interrogation were almost _entirely_ about his wound up anger at Norman, but he remembered Ethan claiming then that only he could save his son.

So why didn't he put a little more effort into it, Carter thought sadly. He dealt with murder all the time, but he had that stereotypical heart that sank any time it was a kid who fell victim to it.

Carter had kept John from crawling to certain death in the next numbered test. It would be pointless to go in to get one of these memory cards and then have no exit, so Carter searched the entire plant for any rigged doors, all exits, all entrances, all windows, everything. And, much to his "convenience," it seemed the storm temporarily knocked out the power to this block of the city. Generators were down and everything. He'd have to pay his gratitude to Ash later. "Unrelated," of course.

Carter didn't like piecing together the weird glass body duct and the room of still very hot electrical bullshit. This killer saw too many movies. He had one hell of a convoluted method of torture, if that was his goal.

They were nearly overwhelmed with the results of their research into these places, into the people connected to said places... it almost seemed like a total cakewalk.

And Carter felt like he should _really_ say something to Norman.

A few things, but he had to be sure of those things first.

They'd had their act together since the previous day. Both cars in commission, and scoping out all areas before letting John go into them, despite any and all protests. Carter was headed to his car, and nudged John to go with Norman.

At the moment, rain wasn't falling, but the rumbles overhead from the pitch black clouds told of what was about to come.

"Jayden, I gotta stop back at the office," Carter started. "I have some things to look into. When I'm done I'll come back to Mr. Vegara's place. If you could take him and do that... memory card _thing_ , I got a feeling we'll be right on the kidnapper's fuckin' doorstep."

Norman did just that. He drove John home and got to work at cracking the code on the new card. He had found a workaround that bypassed the video trigger, which also nullified a sensor that the kidnapper was using to keeps tabs on when the card was activated. This gave them a sort of head start, and also helped him gather some clues hidden in the encryption methods.

He'd known for a while this must have been a cop, and Carter apparently agreed. And that… That made him _uneasy_. The kidnapper was obviously a local, comfortable in this area. And Carter had been a cop in this city for a while, so he must know at least most of- no. Norman stopped that line of thinking as he worked on the memory card. They had had their disagreements, but that was mostly behind them, and if Carter even suspected someone he would have said something.

Right?

Norman glanced from the dining table into the living room where John sat flipping through channels on the TV and nervously bouncing his leg. Norman had told him that once he'd leached all the data from the card that he would let him see the video. He wondered sometimes if it was worth showing, since all it did was upset John. Then again, it was the only way he knew his son was still alive. Hearing his screams as he clung to life.

Norman looked back to the code, seeing a string of instructions buried in it. For the next trial. They were still needing to be cracked, but a few were not encrypted and therefore readable. Right, the next was the trial with the gun. If it was anything like the last trials…

&^( $&$ !*(()(&^ #@ kill (* (##$ *$$& son?

Norman stared at the two unencrypted words, a pit steadily growing in his gut. Something told him this one wasn't going to be like the others. He wasn't sure how it would be different, but whatever it was would be even more dangerous. Possibly putting more lives in danger. More potential deaths on his shoulders.

He glanced at John again, then the screen, then finally stood up, resolved. He had to at least scope the place out first, while they still had a bit of an edge.

"Mr. Vegara, I need you to stay here."

"What?" John blinked up at him.

Norman forced a smile. "I just need to run an errand, but you gotta stay here. In case the kidnapper happens to spot us out together or something. I'll be right back."

"Okay." John watched uneasily as Norman left with a click of the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

Back at the precinct, Carter took his time strolling to his desk. Being alone, Charlene felt more comfortable trying to talk to Carter. He lingered by her desk for only a moment. Her shift was ending around this time, and the office was thinning out, and he had uncomfortable work to do. At least the promotional watch basket was empty, no officers up for the bonus this month. His own watch felt noticeably heavy right now.

Carter sat at his desk. Ash was at the desk across from his, quietly sipping at a slurpee oddly, staring a hole through his bare desk. His friend was quiet this year. Something about his sporting events of choice in suspension this season. Fuckin' odd ones, French Canadians.

Carter took a look around his computer. For the first time in years, the files felt useless. He closed all of them, staring at the bare desktop. He didn't want to access the database, that feeling in his stomach pushing far too much confidence into his worries.

Cross reference after cross reference, the narrowed results appeared all too quickly. A former cop. Still living in town. Within the ten square mile radius in question. Having had the promotion to at least lieutenant.

Personal history, thinking back on the ramblings Norman would give about the killer's general state of psychosis or whatever the fuck.

"...Motherfucker," Carter whispered to himself.

Ash looked up.

Carter met his eyes.

"Ah, nothing."

"I am going home now," Ash stood up.

"Yeah you do that. Uh... enjoy puck chasing."

"It is cancelled this year."

"Sure thing, maple leaf."

"Wrong team."

"Okay."

Ash rolled his eyes and grabbed his stuff. Then left without another word.

Carter rapped his fingertips uneasily on his desk. He stared at the final profile he selected. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. He was so quick to jump on every other asshole he accused of being the killer, but he couldn't... not to a friend.

_Fuck._

The more he dwelled on it, the more everything screamed that it all fit into place. Carter knew who the killer was. Not just by name, Carter _knew_ him.

Carter was blindsided by panic. The last time he saw Scott Shelby was last week. Always the wrong place, the wrong time. Always getting out without a hitch because he knew him, Perry, even Ash. Even _Charlene_. Everyone. Carter felt so much horror creep up on him at once, and panic gripped his very heart, because Scott knew that Carter was very much close to catching "the killer" last time. And with how careless Carter was now-

Carter grabbed for his phone, but fumbled with his coat, having grabbed for the wrong side first. Something else was in the way though. His hand gripped the unfamiliar object, pulling it out slightly to take a peek.

"...What the fuck?"

Carter was the last one in the room, but his voice still barely came out with any volume.

Carter almost didn't know what he was staring at. A vial. Traces of something neon and terrifyingly attractive to the eyes.

Oh god _damn_ it.

Carter shoved it back into the pocket with a shaking hand. His brain was far too fucking overloaded at the moment for this shit. He finally grabbed his phone and reached his contact list. He had only four numbers on speed dial. Ash. Perry. The pizzeria. Norman.

 

* * *

 

It was a normal looking home, really. On a normal street. Not abandoned or anything, though maybe a little rickety. Not exactly the best part of town, from what Norman could speculate.

He double checked the address and finally walked up to it.

He had no intention of going in, or even being spotted. Just wanted to observe. Slipped over the dilapidated fence easily and snuck along the side of the house. He could see lights on inside, then a shadow moving around.

He kept sliding along the side, maneuvering around a roll-away trash can. Coming close to a window with its blinds up and the panel sitting open. Anxious to peek inside, to possibly see what kind of person they would be dealing with. He made it around and was just about to peer in, when his cell phone suddenly shrilled to life, bright and loud, in his pants pocket.

"Shit!" He whispered harshly to himself and fumbled with it to try and shut the fucking thing off.

A screen door rattled.

The panicked, haphazard man hadn't actually expected anyone to be out there, but reacted the instant he saw something even remotely human shaped near the window. He lunged with a hammer in both hands, one on the head and one on the handle, swinging madly, and was surprised yet enthralled to make contact with something warm and generally solid.

"I... I fucking _knew it!_ " the man screamed, laughter riding madly on his voice as he fidgeted in place over the unconscious man. "Fucking knew it! Fuckin' Shelbs wouldn't lie to me, fuck no! You tried to fuck with ol' Whistles, man?! Huh?!"

The man didn't seem beyond his late twenties, and he ducked down to grab Norman's hair in a fist. It seemed like Norman got clunked good, but was still alive.

"Fuckin' after Whistler are ya, I can't even believe..."

The man who referred to himself as Whistler dropped his hammer to the ground, opting to grab at Norman's jacket to drag him to the house. Once inside, Whistler flopped the unconscious man onto his back. Dead or alive, first things first, he was going to loot the body.

He found the overpriced cell phone that alerted him to the fact there really was someone out there to get him. And people told him it was just the drugs! Ha! He grabbed the wallet next. He wanted to check for cash, but-

"Holy _shit!_ " Whistler shouted in disbelief, seeing the FBI badge first. "A fuckin' fed! A fucking shitty fed, I can't believe this! Ha! Haha!"

Whistler searched for the inevitable gun, and tucked that into one of his large pants pockets. This guy was worth keeping for a bit...

 

* * *

 

Carter still sat at his desk, his phone in front of him as he tapped his fingers together, watching the screen. Norman didn't pick up, and Norman didn't call back. Sunlight no longer shone into the office.

"Fuck it," Carter stood up, swinging his coat over his shoulders. He sorted through the contact list again, and found John Vegara. He hurried to the parking lot as he called the apartment. If he didn't get an answer there, Lieutenant Carter Blake was going to _flip his shit_. He blamed it on the adrenaline rush from two startling discoveries in a row. He blamed it on poor coincidence and timing. He blamed it on himself for even leaving his partner alone in the first place.

John grabbed his phone up on the second ring. He had been expecting Norman, but seeing Carter's name pop up was almost as good.

"Hello, this is John."

Carter was already getting into his car.

"John, where the fuck is Agent Jayden?"

Carter's irritation and rage was the best mask for when he wasn't calm.

He was also pretty sure he was already breaking the speed limit once he pulled out of the parking lot.

"What? He's not with you?" John was suddenly sitting straight up, stress tightening in his chest again. "He left! He was looking at the memory card then just got up and said he had to go somewhere. I just figured he was meeting back up with you or something."

Carter considered muting the phone call just to scream the word 'FUCK' as loud as humanly possible.

"I'll be there in a minute," Carter seethed as he ended the call.

Shitshitshitshit... John paced through his house while he waited. He went into the dining room to try and see if he could find any clues on his own, but then decided against it. He had no idea how that shit worked. That was for investigators. Investigators like Agent Jayden. Who was missing. Maybe even... SHITshitshitshit. No. No. Stay calm and wait.

Carter left his car running, just in case. Just in case for the worst, he realized.

He nearly tore John's door down. Fuck, he didn't even know if it was locked, but if it wasn't, it should have been. If it was, it should have been better than that flimsy piece of shit. Carter took half a glance around the apartment but went straight for the table. A gust of wind followed Carter inside, seeing as how he neglected to even close the door. The storm they were worried about was about to start. Great. Just great.

Carter ran over the information on the table. He tried not to touch anything to see if Norman left any clues. The fucking idiot probably tried to do something on his own. It wasn't worth trying to be the hero. Ever.

"Fuck!"

Carter nearly flipped the goddamn table over. Process of elimination, he guessed Norman was going to the location listed on the number 4 paper.

"Was it fucking curiosity?!"

Carter yelled at nobody in particular. He'd already got the resulting chip from that, didn't he? Why did Norman have to go?

"Stay here!" Carter yelled at John, only now acknowledging his existence. He rushed out of the apartment nearly as fast as he came in. "And lock it!"

And Carter slammed the door shut hard.


	5. Chapter 5

Whistler figured he had a pretty good thing going on.

He dragged Norman into a generally empty room, withered from smoke and water damage. He bound Norman's wrists to an old radiator-styled furnace against the wall using several zip ties. Several. Just in case. He didn't want any of that sneaky shit where they got cut and his feddie escaped. And he made sure both hands were in sight and wrenched over his head.

Whistler paced, constantly twitching at any and every sound he heard, be it from Norman or otherwise. He played with the gun he stole from the agent, too.

"C'mon, c'mon," Whistler shifted his weight between his feet, both hands still on the gun. He wanted the agent to wake up, but he also didn't want the agent to wake up, but... ah, fuck it. He hesitantly backed out of the room to the kitchen. He opened the fridge. He had milk and orange juice. He grabbed the opened carton of milk and hurried back over to his tied up agent. Refusing to let go of the gun, Whistler fidgeted with the carton to get the entire top open. With nervous glee, he dumped the contents over Norman's head and tossed the carton aside, waiting for a reaction.

The cold liquid made Norman snap awake with a shocked, loud gasp of air that forced his shoulders to arch painfully. Some of the milk even shot to the back of his throat, which made him cough. What the fuck? _What the fuck?_

Norman shook his suddenly wet hair. None of this was familiar. He tried to move, but was bound. His pulse raced even more. Chest tightened. He began to panic and it tightened further. His breathing became erratic, and it only got worse when he looked up to see two eyes peering back down at him.

"Oh, man..." Whistler shook his head with fiendish glee as he backed up a step. "Oh, man, I really do got you! Oh, man!"

Whistler took a moment to express his excitement. Then he had Norman's own gun pointed in Norman's face.

"What were you doin' after me, huh? Watching me? Like what you saw?"

Whistler could barely contain his chuckles as he ran the gun over that milky face, tempted to shove the gun into the agent's mouth and ending it all for him right there.

"Whatever, fuck it, feddie, this is _payback!_ " Whistler shouted. He jabbed Norman in the throat. "Last time you fuckers came after me, how'd that end, huh? Huh?! Oh, I bet you know!"

Whistler backed off to pace in a small circle, rubbing his arms in excitement that crawled all over him. He pointed the gun at Norman again, unable to decide which limb to keep his aim steady at.

"I should fuck you up real nice and slow, fed!" Whistler's voice was warning. He jumped at the sudden crack of thunder outside. He looked around the house in panic. He aimed the gun again at Norman, but it was hardly steady.

"L-Look." Norman's voice was trembling. He had to swallow quite a few times to try and quell his nerves. "I had nothing to do with whatever happened to you, okay. I know you probably don't believe me."

Norman's eyes kept darting back and forth between the gun and the man holding it.

"Be… believe it or not, I'm here to save you." Norman tried to sit up straighter, though not daring to move suddenly. Clinging to that knack for telling half-truths that had served him so well before. "There are people who really want to hurt you, but I'm trying to avoid that, okay?"

"Yeah?" Whistler's voice calmed down. He looked at Norman with a frightening seriousness he hadn't shown before. "Funny. It was you guys that killed my gal, and now you're trying to 'save' me? Huh? That some kind of sick joke?"

Whistler got close to Norman and pulled at his tie.

"A fucking _knock on the door_ would have been good maybe!" Whistler's voice got shrill. "So you _know_ that's bullshit 'cause _I_ was told _you_ were coming! Shoulda been here an hour earlier, feddie!"

Whistler pointed the gun down to shoot at Norman's leg. He missed, but Whistler was surprised at the kickback the gun had and stumbled slightly.

"Ah, f-fuck!" Whistler stuttered in surprise as his arm tingled. He quickly tried to save face. "Next time it won't be the fuckin' floor! You got it?! Do you?!"

The storm started to rage outside, the lightning reflecting off every surface in jagged ways. Everyone was indoors. No birds, no small animals, no pets, just wind and the kickstart of rain. No cars on the street, except for one slamming into park along the curb.

Carter had to do this right. He had to stick to procedure. And as desperately as he wanted to call backup as per that very procedure, it took all of his willpower to resist. He couldn't alert anybody else. He couldn't put John or Cole in any more danger than they were already in, the killer could be watching right now, and that was an absolutely crushing feeling on Carter, because that meant Norman wasn't top priority.

But like _fuck_ he'd accept that.

Carter ran up the street, barely able to see the house numbers in the lack of light. What was clearly a gunshot, however, quickly sped up the process of which house was the number he wanted. He wanted to burst down every door on that run down house, and he damn well better see Norman standing inside with a bunch of dead Origami Killers at his feet.

Carter hurried from window to window. He couldn't hear easily over the wind. These windows hadn't been cleaned in forever and the blinds were shit, too. He saw movement inside between the blinds as the lightning shown through the opposite end of the house. Good enough.

Carter weighed the risks, but simple impatience took over. He kicked open the door. As luck would have it, the storm echoed his fury, thunder cracking across the sky. He hurried inside. Be careful. Be cautious. He carefully took every corner as if it would be his last. He heard voices. A panicked and maddened voice.

Carter was right outside the room he wanted, he knew it. He thought he heard Norman's voice, and his heart pounded so hard he swore he couldn't even feel it anymore. He rounded the corner, his gun held forward, taking in the situation as quickly as possible. Wirey individual who didn't quite notice him yet. Firearm. Figure on the floor, a hostage-

-Norman.

That was enough.

" _Fucking drop the weapon!_ " Carter shouted, standing only feet away from his target.

Whistler shrieked, turning to look at yet another stalking intruder, but didn't drop the gun.

"Blake!" Norman blurted out, pulling harder than ever against the binds around his wrists. Oh god, he was going to be sick. He was going to be sick, and then he was going to die, and he was going to deserve it for being a fucking idiot, and he would even been okay with that…

But now Carter was here, and in danger, and it was his fault, and there was _nothing_ okay about this.

Whistler whipped his head back to look at Norman. Whistler breathed heavily, audibly, unsure of whom to aim the gun at.

" _Drop it!_ " Carter could have spit venom with his voice.

Whistler unwisely tried to call a bluff. After all, they couldn't _legally_ just kill him if they were actual cops, right? Whistler decided to give Norman a swift kick in the leg.

It was the last choice he was ever going to make.

Carter fired his gun, and shot Whistler in the arm. Whistler screamed, thrashing backwards so hard he fell, Norman's gun clattering to the floor with him.

"Did I _fucking say you could touch him?_ " Carter stalked right up to the crippled man on the floor.

Whistler was trying to babble something, but it didn't matter.

Carter lost it.

Completely.

Carter stood over Whistler and shot him again in the chest. The muscles in Carter's gun arm were so tight they _burned_ ; he wanted to unload every bullet he had into that disgusting body, but that would only cause for problems later. Carter was so overloaded with adrenaline, and, fuck, _emotion_ right now, he couldn't even look at the body, he couldn't spare the time. Carter picked up Norman's gun and fired it toward the entrance he came through. Absolutely no arguing the self defense case now.

Carter dropped Norman's gun. He tried to holster his own weapon but missed awkwardly on the first try, and decided he didn't feel safe enough with it not in hand anyway.

His focus was entirely on Norman now and he kneeled right beside him.

" _Shit_ , Jayden, are you okay?"

Carter's free hand felt at Norman's wrists, running over the plastic bands that kept him in place. That hand immediately moved to touch Norman's face, seeing he was wet with something and only prayed it wasn't blood or some sort of chemical.

Norman couldn't breathe. He couldn't even _think_. His eyes were darting over everything and absolutely nothing. He was panting, almost hyperventilating. And he was shaking. Not shivering from cold. Not the usual trembles of being dopesick. Shaking. Panicked. Afraid.

The touch on his face forced him to focus on Carter, who was so close to him. And he was so thankful for that. He didn't care why.

But he still felt sick.

"I… I… I..." Norman could barely gasp for air, let alone form fucking _words_. He gave up on them, instead letting his head fall back and try to focus on getting those violent trembles to stop.

"Hold on."

Carter's voice was terse.

Something was wrong, and it wasn't what Norman's attacker might have done to him.

Carter would have gnawed the zipties off with his teeth if he had to. He put the gun down by his foot, keeping it within easy reach. He searched for the keys in his pocket, knowing he had a small knife on the keychain. He flipped the knife open with a snap and started at the zipties. What the fuck, why were there so many?

"Keep it together, Jayden."

Maybe he said it mostly for himself.

Carter got one wrist free. He held Norman's hand in his own and eased it down in front of Norman and never before had he wanted so bad to just-

Carter wrapped his arm around Norman's shoulder and pulled his head in against his chest and held him there, close. Carter passed the knife to his other hand, having better access to Norman's remaining binds, and quickly snapped through those, too.

The second the binds were gone, Norman's arms shot forward and wrapped tightly around Carter. His face pressed tight into Carter's neck and he just _breathed_. Carter could shove him away and he wouldn't care, as long as he just had this. Whatever it was. For the slightest moment he felt a little less ill.

Carter didn't resist. He missed when exactly his arms also found their way firmly around Norman, refusing to let him go.

Carter's shirt was wet from whatever Norman's hair was soaked in. It had a scent. Milk? Carter tried to smell it to figure it out, but the smell of blood in the room was quickly starting to overpower anything else.

Maybe it was too soon. It didn't matter, he had to make sure Norman was still with it.

"Talk to me," Carter asked, with no room for a refusal. He moved a hand along Norman's back, trying to calm both of their nerves.

"I'm hurting..." Norman managed to shiver out, his fingers gripping and twisting in the fabric of Carter's clothing. They were probably the two most truthful words he had spoken in a very long time.

Carter didn't quite understand and it scared him.

One hand gripped tightly to Norman's shoulder as the other slowed in its motions. Carter frantically searched for the words he needed to help Norman. How? Where? Why?

"What did-" _...he do to you?_ No. Carter's concern hijacked any sort of thought process he had going on. He tried again. "Do I need to call for help?"

" _No._ " Norman answered firmly, almost harshly. Carter didn't like where this information was going.

Norman tried to get to his feet, clinging heavily onto Carter for support with his shaking hands. Carter figured he'd try to get Norman up. If he couldn't, then he was damn well prepared to carry him out of that room.

"Hang on, I'll drag us out of here."

Carter pulled Norman forward with him, doing what he could to at least get Norman out of that room and closer to an exit.

"Tell me what you need, Jayden." Carter tried not to sound impatient, but he just wanted to _help_ him so badly right now. "What can I do for you, _anything_."

Norman gave him a long, quiet stare.

"You won't like it." Norman sniffled a little and averted his eyes. "You probably won't even do it."

Norman sucked on his shivering bottom lip, thinking. Feeling the nausea and pain increasing by the second. Finally, Norman took a deep, shaky breath and said it.

"In your jacket, there's a vial..."

"...You fucking knew you left it there?" Carter responded without thinking.

Shit, probably not the best response-

-this wasn't even the time for that.

"Jayden, I..."

Carter wanted to say he couldn't. He really did. But Norman looked so broken and hurt right now, but Carter knew this wasn't the answer.

"...Will it get you to the fucking car?"

Carter's words were dark, but the question was sincere. Even though the rain was falling hard outside, Carter had just the one goal in mind. Get Norman out of there. Get him safe. Even with Norman hanging on him like this, Carter was able to spare a hand to feel the very pocket he knew had that vial.

Norman couldn't force himself to look at Carter.

"It will,” he replied. “And once we're in there I'll tell you everything. Whatever you want to know. Or we don't have to talk at all. Ever. Whatever you want, Blake."

Whatever it would take so when everything began to unravel he wouldn't have to _feel_ it.

Wouldn't this kill him? Could making things worse really make this better? Carter looked away from Norman, realizing his hand held the vial, with just a little bit of that terrible drug left inside of it.

"You're a fucking manipulator, Jayden."

Carter dropped the triptocaine vial to the floor, and then it met with the heel of his shoe. Norman felt his breath leave in one instant the moment the vial shattered.

"Now don't you fucking _die_." Carter lowered enough to drag Norman nearly on top of him. "You've made it before, you'll fucking do it again."

Norman barely realized he was being moved around until he was almost entirely on Carter's back. He wrapped his arms around and hung on, though his thoughts were obviously elsewhere. It took a moment for what Carter had said to actually click in as he stumbled along.

"That time was completely different." Norman mumbled, and then he tensed with realization of just what was said. "Wait... how did you know..."

"Someone had to fucking call the ambulance." Of course Carter knew what that question was about. "I'm taking you home. I'll send Ash here later with a quiet team to get the guns, the body, everything. I'm not leaving you alone."

Carter inwardly cursed parking so far away, but they managed to make it there. Carter was about to open the back door, but stopped. If Norman started to... not respond, he'd need better access than that. He opened the front passenger door instead for him.

Norman didn't even have the energy to reply, though the new revelation did join the other incessant thoughts swirling in his mind. He slipped away from Carter and flopped down into the seat. His body was ravaged by a mix of pain. At this point he really couldn't tell what hurt worse.

Carter had just one more thing to get off his chest before the drive. He watched Norman as he waited for his phone call to go through.

"John, it's Lieutenant Blake. I found Agent Jayden and I'll stop by tomorrow. Sorry about the door."

Norman found himself once again slumped in the passenger seat of Carter's car, too sick to talk. He assumed Carter was taking him home, so he told himself it was only a small wait longer and he'd be able to get well. It was a complete dick move that Carter broke that vial, but at least he had another back at his apartment. That grain of hope helped Norman relax slightly, and he closed his eyes and focused on trying to will away the nauseous pain in his gut.

Carter drove through the bare streets, taking his time to keep the ride smooth. He was soaking wet from the storm, and so was Norman. He spared a moment's pity for Cole, wherever he may be, figuring he was trapped in the brunt of the weather.

His heart still raced. This was only one of several problems taken care of, and it actually came with its own set of problems as well. Carter glanced at Norman now and again, checking to make sure Norman wasn't dead choking on his own tongue or something.

The street they were on now had rows of small but nice townhouses. Carter pulled into a narrow driveway that felt more like an alley with a dead end. At the back was a structure that resembled a door-less shack. Carter parked the car under it. They were protected from the rain here.

Carter got out of the car, and rolled down a heavy tarp at the shack's entrance. Carter's car was loaded with a bit too much police gear to be a thing he wanted easily seen right beside his home, unmarked or not. Carter walked back to the other side of his car to get Norman.

"Come on, let's go," Carter said as he opened the door for him.

Norman blinked his eyes open, expecting to be outside his apartment. His brow furrowed a little in confusion when he realized he wasn't. His heart sank.

"Where... are we?"

"Home, sweet home!" Carter grabbed Norman by his arm and elbow, and pulled Norman out of the car.

"What? Your house?" Norman's breathing started to panic again. No. No. This wasn't good. He barely knew where Carter lived, let alone if it was close to his apartment. His mind started to race, which made him even more ill. His legs buckled and he fell to the ground, catching himself with his hands just before he retched out his stomach contents.

"Watch the shoes."

Carter was expecting something like this to happen. He simply stepped back away to avoid getting _hit_ with anything, and then stepped around Norman. He waited there until Norman seemed like he was done with the whole disgusting act. Carter squatted down beside Norman, resting his hand on Norman's back.

"Can't remember if this is like any of those times at the bar. I can never fucking remember those nights."

A laugh. Just a small one as Norman wiped his mouth clean with his sleeve. His clothes were wet and dirty anyway.

"Guess there's no use in asking you to take me to my place, huh?" Norman asked pitifully.

"Nope."

Carter shook his head once. He sounded almost _cheerful_ ; but on the inside, Carter was ready to shred out of his own ribcage with stress and nerves and worry and even lingering fear from the last few hours of his life. Carter gave Norman's back a few gentle pats before he stood up.

"Can you walk? Because I'm not gonna carry you like my damn wife."

"Damn, and here I was hoping..." Norman said sarcastically as he got to his feet by using the side of Carter's car for leverage. He took a few minutes to let the dizziness of getting up subside, then took a couple of experimental steps forward.

"Don't insult the old lady neighbor by hobbling at her speed," Carter took Norman by the elbow and helped him along.

They steadily made their way to the front of the house, climbing up the front steps. Carter unlocked the front door and pushed it open. A light automatically turned on.

"If you're gonna puke again, do it over the railing now. I don't want you giving my floors an acid bath."

"Then I suggest you dump me in the bathroom because that will be happening a lot..."

Norman stopped himself from adding "because of you". That would not help this situation at all. Carter probably had a reason for destroying the vial, besides the obvious excuse of _Carter Blake is an asshole_. Something told him the guy wouldn't have come to his rescue if he didn't have a reason. Norman continued to wonder as he pushed forward into Carter's home.

"Want to cozy up to the toilet with blankets and bunny slippers?" Carter asked as he shut the door.

Carter worked his shoes off using just his feet and hung his coat up on a hook near the door. He started to loosen his tie when he looked at Norman.

"Really, though."

"What I _really_ want is to go home, but since that isn't happening..." Norman hugged himself in an attempt to make the trembling stop. "This isn't even the worst of it... so yeah, your bathroom?"

Carter walked down the hallway and opened a door. At least the bathroom wasn't far off. He flicked on a light.

"Have fun."

Carter stared hard at Norman. He certainly hoped the man was at least smart enough to figure out why Carter _didn't_ go to Norman's place instead.

Norman took off for the bathroom, rushing to the toilet just in time. Even long after he had expelled everything solid from inside is stomach, his body still convulsed with heaving.

Afterward, he flushed, but didn't move. His head was pounding. He recalled being hit over the head earlier, which explained why the throbbing pain seemed to concentrate in one spot. He had told himself over and over that he was going to quit that fucking drug, but now that he was essentially being forced to, it was the only thing he could think about. Just one last hit, wasn't that the typical junkie thought? He groaned and lolled his head over to rest on his arm.

"I can't do this."

Carter leaned on the doorframe and watched the miserable pile of pain that was his partner. Well, he kept Norman alive. But now what?

"Jayden, we still got business to do." The uneasy feeling about the Origami Killer crept up Carter's back. "Get out of those clothes. Take a shower or something. I don't have tea or anything because fuck if I know how to get rid of whatever your problem is."

Carter stepped in and invited himself to helping Norman peel those wet clothes off, with or without permission.

"We gotta get you in functional shape. Without a hospital. So come on."

"There's a really easy way to make me better, but since you effectively ended that option, the hard way it is." Norman sounded bitter, but he didn't care.

He was suddenly aware of the fact that Carter was undressing him. A shiver ran through him for a brand new reason.

"I... I got it." Norman said, then tried to gently shove Carter's hands away.

Carter managed to get away with Norman's jacket. He folded it loosely and tossed it onto the sink.

"Fine." Carter started to leave, but stopped to look over his shoulder at Norman. "I'll be back then."

Carter stared a bit longer at Norman, and then left for the kitchen.

Norman watched Carter leave then reached over and shoved the door closed. He got to his feet, slow but steady, and turned to the shower. A nice hot shower actually sounded nice. He was starting to feel sticky from the milk that psychopath dumped on him. He turned on the water, then started peeling off his clothes, tossing each article to the floor with a wet splat. He vaguely wondered if he should have asked for a towel or something first but disregarded that for the moment. All he wanted to do was climb in under the hot water.

Maybe it was a little too hot, because it made his skin prickle with goosebumps, but it still felt good over the rest of his aching body. Standing, however, was making him feel light headed, so he opted to carefully slide to the floor of the tub instead and just let the water cascade over him.

Carter got some water on the stove to boil. He really _didn't_ have much to make with it, surviving mostly on food and beverage provided by other places. At least he had a kettle. He had it for hot cocoa he used to make for... _company_. He used to be much more of a romantic, even if he had crude goals.

Carter then moved off to his bedroom and stripped out of his wet clothes. Generally, his place was clean, because he was rarely actually _here_. The bed was a bit tousled from having slept there recently, and he wondered for a moment how one blanket, a pillow, and a pair of pants made a swooping mess to the floor, but it was handled easily with a kick to the side and under the foot of the bed. Partially out of sight but not completely out of mind. Everything else visible in the bedroom was in as much order as a hotel room.

He threw on some dry clothes before he went to check on Norman. He snugged a fresh button-up shirt around his shoulders, one a bit too old to wear to work or for business anymore. He left it open as he checked on the water in the kitchen. Steaming already, not quite bubbling, but he'd shut the stove off for now. He didn't need something else to happen with Norman to distract him, and then burn his fucking kitchen down because water boiled over into some kind of ridiculous electrical fire.

Carter walked to the bathroom door. He could hear the water running from the other side. That was a good sign... probably.

Carter knocked once like he always did at the office, and his hand grabbed the doorknob-

...and he waited a moment. Norman usually didn't even hear that knocking like everyone else did, and he could probably use more warning time anyway.

Carter cracked open the door, but only a couple of inches, rather than boldly inviting himself in like he did at work. So he saw Norman at his worst - twice - but that didn't mean the poor man didn't deserve his privacy.

"There's a towel in the closet," Carter leaned on the door but still spoke only through the small gap. "Any injuries from that jackass?"

Carter's voice startled Norman, making him curse quietly to himself before replying.

"My head hurts from where he whacked me with something. Wrists are sore, so is my leg. Nothing that'll kill me I guess." He ran a hand through his hair to help wash it out. "I'm gonna need some dry clothes though. Unless you wanna see me running around your house in a towel."

Norman said that with a nervous sort of laugh. He actually wouldn't put it past Carter to do just that, just to subconsciously make Norman feel even more awkward.

"...Actually, yeah," Carter admitted bluntly. "Didn't think you'd want _my_ clothes, but. Okay."

Carter was about to leave, but held his place another moment.

"...If, uh... you don't mind waiting there in a towel, though, I mean... your head could be serious so let me just look at it. You're like fuckin' thirty-something, man up and don't act like I haven't seen a goddamn bare chest in my lifetime."

With that, Carter quickly departed to check out his wardrobe, leaving the door cracked open.

If Carter only knew some of the more private aspects of his life, Norman was certain the other man wouldn't want to be anywhere near him while he was half-naked. He knew this from experiencing first hand how even so-called friends acted differently once they found out. Part of him entertained the thought of telling Carter, just to see his reaction. Not that he would, but it was an amusing thought.

Norman finished washing up and shut off the water. He found a towel in the closet and began drying himself off, wrapping the towel around his waist when he was done. He still felt sick as hell, but at least he was clean.

Carter wasn't quite paying attention when he came back to the bathroom and just walked in this time. The door was adjacent, the shower was off, that was enough. He had a bundle of soft sleepwear in one hand that he nearly threw at Norman before tossing them onto the tank of the toilet instead.

"All right, let's see whatcha got." Carter readied himself to play doctor if need be.

Norman looked at Carter for a moment. This was the first time in quite a while that he had become intensely aware of their difference in height. He turned around quick to hide the smile pulling at his lips at the realization that he should probably sit down so Carter could actually see it. He moved to the toilet, closed the lid and sat down, still fighting that smile.

Carter finished rolling up his shirt sleeves and moved around to get a good look at Norman. He gave him a quick once-over without much thought, then placed a hand to the back of Norman's head, stroking his palm up along the damp hair.

Norman suddenly tensed but it wasn't from Carter touching the wound.

Even Carter mused, for whatever reason, he hadn't felt that without a glove before.

"I get it. Got quite the lump there. I guess I could get you ice or something. The fuck did he sledge you with?"

At least Norman's attacker had lucky aim to knock him out, and didn't do anything permanent that Carter could see.

Carter was actually really close. Closer than Norman had anticipated. He could actually feel Carter's body heat behind him. His heart thudded heavily and his breath slowed and he had to swallow because his throat was suddenly dry. He almost missed the question.

"A-a hammer, I think. I don't really remember."

Carter lingered longer than he probably should have, but he was distracted. _I don't know what's wrong with me_ styled thoughts kept invading his brain. He was so concerned with Norman being all right, partly because he really was worried about that, but also because it was something to focus on. Something that didn't have to do with the fact he was a police lieutenant and Norman was an FBI agent, and they were in the middle of an investigation that they were so close to solving, and Carter held what he was sure was the last fucking piece they needed.

An accusation of the perfect suspect, and Carter really tried to think of any case against that accusation, but he turned up nothing.

Carter half-stifled a sigh and moved away from Norman. Wasting time wasn't going to make this any easier. He rubbed a hand at the back of his head as he headed for the door.

"Tried to find something that'd fit you." Carter wasn't one to mumble, but even he was becoming aware of how he was filling in silence, dodging certain topics directly, and quite possibly hiding something.

Norman turned around to look at Carter. "Thanks."

He was uncomfortable and he knew exactly why, but something also seemed a bit _off_ about Carter as well. Just those strange little gestures that he hadn't seen Carter use before, because he had an embarrassing habit of watching his partner just a little too much over the last few months. And there was an odd tone he hadn't noticed before, either. Something was weird, different.

He thought maybe it was because he was in Carter's house, but he remembered that Carter, unlike himself, had _plenty_ of regular visitors. Maybe he was just exhausted, the last few hours were anything but uneventful. Still, something worried him, so he had to ask…

"Are _you_ okay?"

"Yeah. Just. You had me scared for a little while back there, that's all." Carter made an amused sound and walked back to the kitchen.

That was a simple enough explanation, logical too.

And Norman didn't believe a word of it.

But he let it go. After all, he was the last person who had the right to accuse anyone of lying. Norman set to getting dressed in the clothes Carter left for him. He may have been slightly taller, but he was also more lanky, which resulted in mixed results with the bottoms being tight but a little short, and the top being a little loose. But they kept him covered and that's all he cared about.

He was already feeling that awful wave of cold sweat setting in. Wonderful. He sighed and finally exited the bathroom.

Carter bumped into Norman in the hallway, carrying the blanket mess from his room in his arms.

"Kitchen's over there, help yourself." Carter wedged himself around Norman and went to grab the clothes from the bathroom. "Just remember you're paying back for any expensive shit you eat."

Carter grabbed the soggy wet clothes, and the towel, and left Norman's jacket behind.

"Poppin' this in the wash so we can get back to business asap."

"Sounds good." Norman nodded. His eyes lingered a bit before he pressed on to the kitchen. He had no intention of eating, not that his cramping stomach would let him if he tried. He just took a seat at the table and waited, fidgeting uncomfortably. He soon started drumming his fingers against the table, just another nervous habit, but concentrating on the tapping did help distract him from the pain.

Carter came back into the kitchen. He had Norman's coat in his hands and draped it over the back of a chair to dry out. He didn't start conversation as he made some sort of instant caffeinated beverage shit with the water before it got cold.

The lights in the kitchen flickered and Carter looked up at the ceiling for a moment. It must have been the storm getting worse again.

Norman glanced up as well. He felt a tightening in his chest. They were running out of time. He settled his eyes on Carter again, watching him quietly a moment. The suffocating tightness got worse, which made his stomach hurt worse, which made his fingers tap louder.

He finally spoke.

"So, we both know how _my_ investigation went. You discover anything interesting at the office?"

"On the contrary, Norm," Carter turned to look at him. "All I know is you ran off without a fuckin' word and now you're puking at my house! Maybe you should finish your story before we get on mine, huh?"

A horrible buzzing noise sounded.

Carter looked at another kitchen counter where he had put his keys, wallet, and phone when getting Norman settled in earlier. His phone was ringing, being set to vibrate and currently hitting his keys against the counter surface.

"You lucked out this time," Carter aimed his words at Norman, and he walked over to his phone to answer it. He saw the number as Ash calling. He took an audible breath and accepted the call. "Carter."

Carter stared at his fridge as he listened to Ash speak. He took a sip of his drink, made a disgusted face down at it, then took another sip as he glared at the fridge.

"Gotcha--"

And the lights shut off and the kitchen went dark. Electronics suddenly falling from life made a clear sound. The power was out.

"Ah, shit. No, no, the power just went out here. Probably just a fuckin' tree branch or something. I'll catch ya later at the office."

Carter ended the call, but left his phone on for the little bit of light it provided.

"Well," Carter started. "Will you just look at our situation now?"

Carter shook his head and pocketed his phone behind him, his expression now mixed into the darkness with the phone screen out of sight.

"So Ash got to your little scene. Our guns are back at the precinct, we'll grab 'em tomorrow. Your attacker was a useless..."

Carter thinned his lips. He walked around to the kitchen sink so he could look out the window.

"He was a paranoid drug addict with a warrant on his ass, anyway. Perry's got the whole being _dead_ thing covered for us. So I guess what I'm saying is, don't worry about it."

"Ninety percent of my time is spent worrying." Norman commented, smirking even though it was too dark for Carter to see. "But thank you. You know, for having my back and everything. I owe you one."

"I don't think math is supposed to be used that way, but okay."

Carter set his drink down beside the sink.

"It never was my best subject."

Norman sighed and sat back a little in his seat.

"I mean it though, when I say thanks. It was stupid for me to go alone. I just..." Norman ran a hand through his mostly dry hair. "Once I realized what the next trial was aiming for... I couldn't risk letting you, or John, or anyone else get hurt. I'm sorry."

"Neither could I," Carter said solemnly. "And I mean it when I say I would have had the entire force behind me if I didn't know the killer was-"

Well, _fuck_. Carter bit his tongue.

"Probably watching, and... willing to make us pay for helping out his target."

Norman was quiet for a moment. The knowing feeling of _something isn't right_ crept back up his spine. He didn't have to see Carter's expression, that tone in his voice was enough. It was the first time he really wished he hadn't been so used to picking out those little clues.

"That wasn't what you were going to say." He cautiously broke the silence. "And I wouldn't care, honestly, if you were lying, but... If it's about the case, and it's kinda sounding like it is, I'd hope you'd trust me enough to share."

"Really?" Carter looked over his shoulder. There was enough light from outside to make out the shape of Norman easily enough. "Because that sounds pretty accusatory to me."

"Maybe it is."

Yes, Norman was definitely gonna be sick. He stood and moved blindly in the direction of the bathroom, one trembling hand resting on his twisting stomach.

And this is why Carter couldn't bear to tell Norman anything right now.

Carter watched in irritation and concern as Norman stumbled away. Carter followed him with haste, and once caught up to Norman, let his hands physically guide Norman to the bathroom. Carter didn't need his eyesight to navigate his own house. Carter shoved Norman at the toilet as gently as he could, barely leaving his side.

At first, nothing came out but pain. Then bitter bile and stomach acid. Next a few more violent, unproductive spasms. Then it was finally over.

Norman went through his post-vomit routine: wipe mouth, flush, sit back, wish for death. He slid away from the toilet, his back pressing up against the cool wall behind him. He let his head fall back against it with a thud.

He wanted to tell Blake to fuck off.

He wanted Blake to come closer.

He couldn't decide which option would be worse.

Carter blocked the only exit. What was the point of leaving? Norman was a fucking idiot if he thought he still had anything to hide related to that _habit_ of his. It was already out there in the open between them; no sense in pussy-footing around the issue.

Carter's phone buzzed from his back pocket, two short bursts.

Albeit a bit puzzled, Carter reached for his phone to look at it. He had a text message. It wasn't from a phone number, probably an online SMS service. His eyes flickered to Norman for a moment before he opened the message.

>HOW IS YOUR PARTNER?

Oh, that _son of a bitch_. Carter nearly crushed his phone.

There was a rage inside of Carter that pushed aside any guilt he might have had about turning in a backstabber for murder. He was being taunted and that was a grave mistake. They were being watched, this was a trap, and the fact that Lieutenant Carter Blake wasn't completely up in arms over the murder of an FBI agent right now was a giveaway of its own. Sure, Carter could probably look into the source of that message and connect it to a web provider and all that technological bullshit except Carter knew _exactly_ who sent it without needing any of that run around.

"Ash again?" Norman asked, his voice ragged.

The glow from the phone made it easier for him to see Carter. He almost wanted to suspect it was someone else, but just didn't have the energy to think that hard. He closed his eyes and shivered.

"Sure."

Carter's voice was awfully _dark_ to sound convincing of that.

The anger smoldered as Carter put the phone away. He kneeled beside Norman, and put a hand on his shoulder, staring at him through the darkness. Some sort of button had been pushed inside Carter that was never, _ever_ meant to be pressed. It surpassed the need to protect that he normally had as his natural role of a police officer.

"Jayden, we gotta hurry. Think you'll be better soon? I..." Carter hesitated; he sighed, frustrated.

"I'm pretty sure I know," he started, "...figured out, who the Origami Killer is."

There, he lay it out flat for Norman. He instantly regretted saying anything about it, but Carter was also aching for a rampage right about now.

Norman had been simultaneously expecting and dreading this. It acknowledged everything he had been thinking in the last hour. Every worry and doubt. It should have made him feel worse, but at the moment all he could think of was Cole Vegara in that horrible pit. There was no time for him to be upset, not yet anyway.

"Let's go," Norman said, grabbing on to Carter without warning and using him for leverage to lift himself off the floor.

"The fuck, you just gonna run out there in my pajamas and vomit on his shirt?" Carter held onto Norman's arms regardless, not pushing him back down to the floor. "I don't even know where he is!"

Carter pushed Norman against the bathroom wall and held tighter to Norman's arms, keeping him there.

"Look. I'll give you the name. You sit the fuck down and try to find where he could be from my fuckin' kitchen table, and I'll wave your clothes around like a fucking idiot until they're dry. Then, if you're not tossing cookies left and right, we'll go out on a fuckin' _adventure_ , okay?"

Carter mused for a second that now would be a terrible time for Norman to just puke on him in protest. His mind swatted away the thought.

"Maybe if you weren't snorting that shit all this time, things would be different, _but they're not_ , you got it?"

Norman couldn't see, but he could feel that Carter was closer than he probably realized. It made him all sorts of uncomfortable. That awkward feeling, however, was quickly replaced with anger.

"Fuck. You." Norman seethed, writhing in Carter's grip to try and shove him away. "Just give me the fuckin' name."

Carter was just expressing tough love. He let go of Norman.

"Shelby," Carter kept a lid on his anger, "and don't fuckin' trip."

Norman may have shoved Carter a little as he walked away. That name. _That name._ He'd heard it. No. He'd _seen_ that guy before. Not a lot, but a couple of times over the last year. And Carter knew him. And Carter had agreed that the killer had to have been a cop. _So exactly how long..._

Norman growled at his own thoughts and tried to clear them. Right now his focus had to be on finding the asshole. He found his jacket in the kitchen and in his jacket he found ARI. He sat down and began to work.

Carter still felt the heat of their argument prickling over his skin. The temptation to grab Norman and throw him down the hallway was great, but he had his own work to get done. His own pitifully _domestic_ work.

Carter tried to clear his head of all this bullshit as he went for the laundry room. The washer had been on its rinse cycle; a quick feel proved that the clothes were soaking wet. He sighed and felt for what felt like Norman's clothes, pulling them out one by one and wringing them free of water as much as he could.

He was almost impressed with how Norman just went straight to work like that.

The lights in the laundry room suddenly popped on. Carter looked up at the lights, in mixed spite and confusion. Whatever, he'd take advantage of it. He threw the clothes into the dryer and cranked the heat on them.

Carter lingered in the laundry room, however. Leaning on the dryer, staring at the wall in front of him, silently.

All the pieces seemed to snap together now that Norman had a name. All the evidence, the months of work, all he needed was that one final piece to pull it all together. When the lights turned back on and flooded his vision, it temporarily blocked the interface until ARI could adjust to the sudden change. It made his headache throb a little worse but he ignored it in favor of tossing the new data into geoanalysis.

And there it was. A couple new points of interest popped up, including a warehouse that was right in the comfort zone, linked to Scott Shelby with the help of all the other data he had collected. His chair scraped loudly across the floor as he got up to find a piece of paper to write the new addresses down.

Norman removed the glasses and glove, then blinked in confusion as the orange text from the interface lingered in his vision. He reached up, thinking maybe he had forgotten the glasses, only to have his fingers come in contact with skin. The words faded though, and he ignored his concern.

Carter occasionally stirred from his idling to check on the dryer timer or to feel the clothes inside the dryer. His latest check proved to probably be just about right.

Carter pulled out the first article of clothing, a pair of pants, and shook them out. Relatively static free! He lay the pants across the clean door and leaned in close to the dryer opening to seek out a specific piece next. He found Norman's undershirt. Alright, time to see how his clothes turned out.

Carter straightened his back, holding the thin material in his hands. The fresh, humid heat of the dryer still clung to it, but not enough to keep it damp. Without thought, Carter gently pressed the material to the side of his face. It was comfortable. As long as it wasn't something too clingy for him, it was as good as done.

"Alright, Blake." Norman called as he walked through the house with the paper clutched in his hand. He found the room he figured was the laundry and invited himself in since the door was open. "I have the addre- what are you doing?"

"Good," Carter looked at Norman and threw the shirt at him. "And all done here."

With no further comment. He hadn't realized he did anything odd. Carter reached back into the dryer to get the rest.

So they were just going to ignore that then. For now.

Norman glanced around for a place to change, gave up, and began pulling off the pajamas right there in the laundry room. He'd heard Carter complain enough about his awkwardness and they didn't have the time to waste. Time to man-up, as it were.

He still made sure to keep his eyes averted as he pulled on his warm clothes. The last thing he needed was to lose his nerve by catching whatever weird, disapproving look Carter might have been giving him.

"So whatcha got?" Carter walked around Norman as he buttoned up the rest of his own shirt. He had serious doubts Norman would want to wait to go after their target, so he had to make himself look presentable with what he had. "Think we should go as the lone duo? Or-"

Carter stopped with a hand on the doorframe, leaning back in to look straight at Norman.

"Please say I can call the entire goddamn force to wring his ass dry." The look on Carter's face said he was going to do that anyway.

"I'd suggest being cautious. I mean, he knows we've already fucked up his plan and that makes it especially dangerous for Cole. A suspect like this wants to be very in control and now that his control has been tampered with he'll become extremely volatile. Call whomever you want, but just exercise discretion."

Norman finished giving his opinion just as he pulled on his pants and turned to his partner. He noticed Carter had been looking at him and felt a distressing heat suddenly boil up inside him. He turned away again to tuck in his button-up.

"Well it's only like, what, an hour away from the ass crack of dawn? I'm sure Ash will love getting another call tonight."

Carter's eyes happened to flick up and down Norman's body before he walked away.

As he talked on his phone to a tired (but apparently otherwise bored) Ash, Carter found himself a tie and a belt so he looked at least as professional as Norman did. He was used to getting dressed fast, and with it came making himself look good just as fast. Before they got on a roll, however, Carter waited for Norman by the door.

"Alright, so we're going to have a whole bunch of men surrounding this warehouse address you gave me, but we're all gonna be spread out until we know we've got the killer cornered and the kid safe. Then we'll move in. I considered our situation, and thought maybe you'd like to give ol' Johnny a call. We only completely ruined his fun time game. Least we can do is let him finish as the winner, right?"

Carter gave Norman a little cocky wink, knowing full well he was going to hog up as much of the glory as possible after this was done.

Norman almost missed the wink as he was too wrapped up in his own thinking to pay attention. He did see it though, and to his surprise he reacted with a smirk when he was sure he should have been angry. There were entirely too many reasons for him to be angry at Carter, but he couldn't ever seem to dwell on them anymore. Maybe he'd have time to be angry after this was all over.

"One last thing, Norman."

Carter headed a step back towards Norman. His approach continued though, taking on an assertive stature as he moved to back Norman against the hallway wall. Norman felt his stomach flip.

"You're not gonna have another breakdown, are you?" Carter worded it so bluntly, but his voice was serious. "Not gonna get sick again?"

Norman's breath caught in his throat, but he fought it down.

"No, I'll be okay." Norman replied in a staggered, nervous tone. "I've got more important things to focus on."

Carter's eyes held with Norman's for a moment longer. His gaze shifted downward, then back up, and then Carter turned away.

"Yeah well that didn't stop you before." Carter said, then opened the door and locked the doorknob, stepping out into the night and expecting Norman to follow.

Norman stayed behind to release the heavy breath he had been holding. His shoulders relaxed from a tension he was well aware of holding but did not want to acknowledge. He finally followed after Carter, pulling the door shut behind him.

As Norman got into the passenger seat of the car he pulled out his phone and called John Vegara. The man answered in a tired voice, but immediately became more alert as Norman relayed information to him.

"Get ready to go, okay?" He instructed near the end. "We're coming to get you. Be ready when we get there."

Norman ended the call once John acknowledged the command. He was starting to feel antsy again, but at least he wasn't going to throw up.

Carter couldn't wait for this to be done with. He'd been on the phone in the last two days more than he ever planned or wanted to be. He was going to shirk work for an entire week once he had that son of a bitch dealt with.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Carter put the plan into place. He got Norman to his car, hiding his regret at having to trust the man alone for a while. Ash had assembled a team for him, at least, including EMTs. Part of why they could not delay this until a reasonable hour was Cole. Even if they got to him before the rain water drowned him, the kid had been trapped in cold water for days, if the video was anything to go by.

That brought Carter to the warehouse Norman identified. He wanted the killer to know he was coming. He wasn't a profiler like Norman, but this was his _fourth_ year on the case. He knew the kids never died directly from the killer's hand. The killer only watched, for whatever sick reason he had, and Carter was going to count on that.

Carter stepped out of his car, one of the only unmarked vehicles arranged in the lot. He anxiously looked for Norman's car. He could only put his men into place so many times without it being obvious he was impatiently waiting for him.

"Where the fuck is he?" Carter said aloud, his voice barely above a whisper. It was raining even as he waited now outside of his car, slowly sinking into his coat. A lot of officers would look at him expectantly now and again, but no, there was a reason he had to wait just a little longer.

 

* * *

 

Norman decided having John sitting in his passenger seat was insanely awkward. He didn't know (or at least want to acknowledge to himself) why, and it would have been even stranger to make John sit in the back for no reason. There were more important things to be concerned with, and Norman's mind was swimming with them. He had hardly spoken two words to the man as a result.

"Agent Jayden?" John's voice broke through the physical silence and barely penetrated the chaos reverberating in Norman's mind.

Norman glanced to John, silent and expectant, then back to the road.

John cleared his throat and continued. "I just... thank you, for helping me find my son. Without you and Lieutenant Blake I don't think-"

"It's alright, Mr. Vegara. You can thank us when it's over." Norman sighed.

John picked up on the tension, not that it was hard to sense, and gave a sigh himself as he faced forward.

"I hope things will work out for you, once this is all over."

Norman gave John another quick glance, this time in confusion. There were all sorts of things that could mean. He wasn't sure he wanted to consider most of them. Norman was suddenly very thankful to be pulling up to the warehouse.

Carter let out the breath he didn't know he was holding once he finally caught sight of that piece of shit rental car. He looked for Ash, and exchanged a hand signal with him.

When the car was slowing to a park, Carter walked over to it with a quickened pace.

"All ready for you," Carter gave them both a smirk.

John threw a nervous look over the roof of the car to Norman. Of course the man was scared. He didn't have the benefit of police training or profiling or anything to reassure him besides the two investigators. Norman wasn't entirely sure how to reassure him, either; he had a feeling anything he did or said wouldn't lessen the anxiety the other was feeling.

Norman shut his door and rounded the car to the other side. "You ready?"

John took a deep breath, straightening his back and doing a very good job of at least pretending to be brave. "Yeah."

"You go get Cole," Carter nodded his chin at John. "Get him safe and outta there. You got all of us ready to cover you just in case."

Carter gave one last look to Norman before taking a few steps backward, then turning away to hurry back to his car.

John nodded back, though it seemed more to himself, then took another steady breath before walking, then jogging towards the warehouse. He found an unlocked door and threw it open with such force the rain water clinging to it sprayed in all directions. He looked around desperately and his eyes came to rest on a small, thin figure bent over across the room.

"Cole!" John shouted suddenly, but soon realized the figure was not his son.

It was a woman. Her soaked, stringy dark-colored hair whipped around her neck as she snapped to look at him. She stood suddenly, brandishing a long metal pole in her hands.

"Who the fuck are you?" She shouted at him in panic.

"Who the fuck are YOU?" John shouted back.

"Dad?! DAD!" Came Cole's terrified voice from the large grate the woman was standing over.

"Cole!" John ran over to the grate, any confusion he had dropping and being replaced with desperate hope.

Lauren quickly understood this was the little boy's father and she quickly set back to trying to pry the lock off the grate. John shouted something quick and hopeful to his son, though any words really felt like someone else was speaking them at the moment. Then he went to help pop the lock open.

"Do you _really_ think this counts?"

Scott broke the fragile tension in the wide open room. He slowly approached them, step after calculated step, handgun held out in front of him and ready to shoot either of them should they make any sudden movements.

"What is love, if not sacrifice?" Scott asked, exasperated. His eyes fell on Lauren for a moment. Some promise she kept. Her heart was too good for a world like this one. _They'll never find him if you kill me now. You want another one dead, knowing you could have done something about it?_ She was so easy to lie to, it almost hurt.

He pitied her.

She wasn't worth the bullet. But…

He looked back at John.

"What makes you think you're a worthy father? What makes _you_ think you truly have any sort of love for your child?" Scott took to approaching John a lot faster now. "Really, you let the _cops_ do all the work! You did nothing! What did you sacrifice, huh? A little of your time, nothing else?"

It was him. Goddamn it, it was really him. Lauren felt her chest tighten with emotion. She knew by now that everything he had told her was a lie. That he had led her around pretending to be figuring out who had killed her son when it had been him the whole time. The suffocating disbelief was replaced with rage.

"Like you're some sort of saint!" Lauren screamed back to Scott. "Like you have anything but cowardice in your own sick heart! Shut your fucking mouth about love, Scott Shelby."

John blocked out everything else. He didn't care what that asshole thought about him. He had to get Cole out. One more push and the lock broke open.

Lauren yanked the rod away from John and he dropped down to shove the grate open.

Scott looked at Lauren.

"I let you come here, didn't I?" he shrugged. It was a legitimate point! "That's having a heart, don't you think? I could have just not told you! Then where would you be?"

"You also could have let my little boy live!" Lauren cried. She looked down at John to make sure he could get Cole out of the water.

Once she saw John was dragging the freezing, terrified, but alive boy out, she looked back to Scott. She side-stepped as she was in front of the father and son, the pole still in her hand as if it were a weapon on par with a gun.

"You have ruined enough lives, you asshole."

"Lauren," Scott looked at her with sympathy. "Your Johnny's death was not your fault. If his father had even half the heart you did, things would have turned out differently, I'm sure!"

Scott fired his gun near John.

"But this isn't your trial, is it...?" Scott's face turned grim as he looked down at Lauren.

 

* * *

 

Outside, Norman had been waiting at his car, tapping his fingers impatiently against his thigh and staring at the warehouse door. This was taking too long. Way too long.

The warehouse was probably a mess to find a kid in, Carter wondered. Maybe it was another trial that was set up for John that they didn't know about. All Carter could really think about while waiting was his usual days at the office where he didn't have to worry about children's lives depending on him.

Not that he enjoyed pissing away the time like this.

His muscles were starting to cramp having stood still for so long. He shifted his weight in mild agitation, letting out a long sigh. He was going to spend a good, long time drying out in his bedroom after this, if he didn't turn into a human-sized prune first.

Carter snapped back to full attention. Even over the rain he could have sworn he just heard the clear sound of gunfire.

"Christ," Carter grumbled.

"Shit." That was it, Norman couldn't just wait around anymore after the sound of that shot. He ducked into his car, pulled open the center console so hard he almost bent the hinges, and reached in to grab the back-up firearm stored there. After securing it he jumped back out of the car and took off for the door he watched John go through.

"The fuck is he doing?!" Carter pounded his fist so hard on the roof of his car he almost dented it.

 

* * *

 

John huddled over his son, protectively turning his body to shield the boy and looked around for any sort of exit he could find.

Lauren's glare hardened, her knuckles white, but she couldn't risk going at him and having him shoot.

"No, Scott. But maybe it's yours."

And Norman burst through the door.

Scott looked to the source of the noise. He didn't care who it was or why they were here. He pointed his gun and fired at them, and then he turned and ran for it.

Norman had his gun raised, but Scott had fired first. The bullet flew past him, and Norman thought he was lucky the ex-cop hadn't been aiming until he felt a sudden burning pain in his arm. The bullet had flown past, but not without clipping his bicep. It was a slight graze, enough to hurt and soak his sleeve with warm blood, but not nearly serious enough to keep Norman for chasing right after Scott.

As soon as the two men ran past, Lauren tossed aside the rail and reached down to grab John by the back of the collar and practically yank him to his feet. "Let's go! Now! Go!"

John grabbed Cole up into his arms and followed after Lauren and out the door.

Carter saw movement, just as every other watching officer did.

He couldn't say he was as relieved as everyone else was to see a child present. Sure, it helped, but...

"Keep an eye out," Carter issued the order to the radio and quickly abandoned his car to hurry forward with the EMTs and a few other officers.

Okay, so there was a waterlogged kid, a broad he'd never seen before, and John. And they all looked dandy. But he heard two gunshots, and there was at least one person unaccounted for, and if his gut feeling said anything (which, it HAD been, and he'd been ignoring it in terms of this case), there was a killer unaccounted for as well.

"What happened, where's Agent Jayden?" Carter started with his demands, letting the medical crew take over business with the kid. "Did you see the kidnapper in there?"

John nodded, his eyes lingering on his son for a second after the EMT's pulled Cole out of his arms. He looked to Carter, his expression shifting from relief back to concern.

"The bastard shot Jayden. I dunno how bad but there was blood. After the guy ran out the back Agent Jayden ran after him."

"Shit," Carter quite openly cursed.

He grabbed the nearest officer and yanked him close to get his attention.

"Tony," Carter seethed, "I need you to get officers on every exit this shit hole has, I want guys in the air, I want everything because this is now a goddamn man hunt, _now go_."

Carter shoved Tony roughly and took off into the warehouse, reaching into his coat to pull out his own firearm. He could have used other men behind him, but he was in a very much shoot first ask questions of the rotting corpse later sort of mindset.


	7. Chapter 7

Outside, Norman had been waiting at his car, tapping his fingers impatiently against his thigh and staring at the warehouse door. This was taking too long. Way too long.

 

The warehouse was probably a mess to find a kid in, Carter wondered. Maybe it was another trial that was set up for John that they didn't know about. All Carter could really think about while waiting was his usual days at the office where he didn't have to worry about children's lives depending on him.

 

Not that he enjoyed pissing away the time like this.

 

His muscles were starting to cramp having stood still for so long. He shifted his weight in mild agitation, letting out a long sigh. He was going to spend a good, long time drying out in his bedroom after this, if he didn't turn into a human-sized prune first.

 

Carter snapped back to full attention. Even over the rain he could have sworn he just heard the clear sound of gunfire.

 

"Christ," Carter grumbled.

 

"Shit." That was it, Norman couldn't just wait around anymore after the sound of that shot. He ducked into his car, pulled open the center console so hard he almost bent the hinges, and reached in to grab the back-up firearm stored there. After securing it he jumped back out of the car and took off for the door he watched John go through. 

 

"The fuck is he doing?!" Carter pounded his fist so hard on the roof of his car he almost dented it.

* * *

John huddled over his son, protectively turning his body to shield the boy and looked around for any sort of exit he could find.

 

Lauren's glare hardened, her knuckles white, but she couldn't risk going at him and having him shoot.

 

"No, Scott. But maybe it's yours."

 

And Norman burst through the door.

 

Scott looked to the source of the noise. He didn't care who it was or why they were here. He pointed his gun and fired at them, and then he turned and ran for it.

 

Norman had his gun raised, but Scott had fired first. The bullet flew past him, and Norman thought he was lucky the ex-cop hadn't been aiming until he felt a sudden burning pain in his arm. The bullet had flown past, but not without clipping his bicep. It was a slight graze, enough to hurt and soak his sleeve with warm blood, but not nearly serious enough to keep Norman for chasing right after Scott.

 

As soon as the two men ran past, Lauren tossed aside the rail and reached down to grab John by the back of the collar and practically yank him to his feet. "Let's go! Now! Go!"

 

John grabbed Cole up into his arms and followed after Lauren and out the door.

 

Carter saw movement, just as every other watching officer did.

 

He couldn't say he was as relieved as everyone else was to see a child present. Sure, it helped, but...

 

"Keep an eye out," Carter issued the order to the radio and quickly abandoned his car to hurry forward with the EMTs and a few other officers.

 

Okay, so there was a waterlogged kid, a broad he'd never seen before, and John. And they all looked dandy. But he heard two gunshots, and there was at least one person unaccounted for, and if his gut feeling said anything (which, it HAD been, and he'd been ignoring it in terms of this case), there was a killer unaccounted for as well.

 

"What happened, where's Agent Jayden?" Carter started with his demands, letting the medical crew take over business with the kid. "Did you see the kidnapper in there?"

 

John nodded, his eyes lingering on his son for a second after the EMT's pulled Cole out of his arms. He looked to Carter, his expression shifting from relief back to concern.

 

"The bastard shot Jayden. I dunno how bad but there was blood. After the guy ran out the back Agent Jayden ran after him."

 

"Shit," Carter quite openly cursed.

 

He grabbed the nearest officer and yanked him close to get his attention.

 

"Tony," Carter seethed, "I need you to get officers on every exit this shit hole has, I want guys in the air, I want everything because this is now a goddamn man hunt,  _ now go _ ."

 

Carter shoved Tony roughly and took off into the warehouse, reaching into his coat to pull out his own firearm. He could have used other men behind him, but he was in a very much shoot first ask questions of the rotting corpse later sort of mindset.

* * *

Scott had been in this warehouse enough times to know it very well. Even with his identity known to at least one or two people, he had to make an escape. He was angry, and disappointed, and if he made any more mistakes, it was going to cost him dearly, and he knew it.

 

Scott turned another corner, and took just a moment to catch his breath. He hadn't expected such a dedicated pursuit. He'd need a way to trap this guy, and to eliminate him. Send him off his trail for good.

 

Then he had one hell of a hornet's nest to get through outside the warehouse.

 

Just when he thought he cleared away all the connections to him, snuffed out every problem, he found more problems cropping up than what he had started with. For years things went well. Now, not so much.

 

"Give up Shelby!" Norman called after him, his lungs burning as he chased Scott deeper into the twisting industrial alleys.

 

Scott felt one of his feet threaten to stumble. He couldn't keep this up forever. The man chasing him was aware enough to watch for his cover fire.

 

And damn this weather. Unless he wanted his asthma seizing control of him, he had to change his tactics. First, get somewhere where the sky couldn't see him. Next, get himself a nice open space for confrontation.

 

Scott ducked away into another open warehouse, and fought his racing breath to get around the tall boxes inside. He leaned heavily against the back of them to catch a breather, feeling the stock of his gun with his thumb as he waited.

 

Norman's run slowed as he followed Scott into the warehouse. He was panting, sweating, even shaking a little. His weapon was still drawn and ready as he carefully looked around the crates that stretched through the warehouse floor.

 

Damn, his nerves were wound so tight. Norman stepped softly and kept his ears strained for any sound of movement, but it was hard with the sound of rain roaring against the roof.  _ Come on you bastard _ , Norman thought as he crept along the edge of a box.

 

Scott saw the barrel of the other's gun first.

 

He reacted to it quickly.

 

Scott moved away from the box and held his gun out in front of him as well.

 

They matched their eyes and the room filled with a life-or-death tension right away. Scott moved very carefully, still seeking escape. He could get out of this. He could still get out of this. He had a feeling this man wasn't the killing type. It was almost sad... always the good hearted ones, willing to give even the worst people and situations that tiny bit of chance, never letting go of the hope that there could be something different there, that every impression they had was the wrong one.

 

Scott ground his teeth, eyes unwavering, staring straight into Norman.

 

"It wasn't supposed to be like this, you know," Scott started, speaking carefully as his steps came to a stop. He didn't want to push it too fast now.

 

Carter heard the voice even over the rain. He stormed into the room with a greater fury than that of the weather. At this angle, he could see Norman, and that Norman was aiming at something. It didn't take long for Carter to narrow down those possibilities, and he saw Scott Shelby the next instant.

 

"You  _ son _ -"

 

Carter hardly got a word out. As he was turning to point his gun at Scott, Scott had a better shot lined up first. Scott had less of an angle to turn. Scott fired, and the bullet struck the rail of Carter's gun. It tore the gun painfully from Carter's hand.

 

"- _ of a BITCH! _ "

 

Carter screamed, his hand stinging from the shock of metal tearing out of his grip that fast.

 

"You son of a bitch," Carter restated immediately through clenched teeth, still trying to recover from the bruising pain in his hand. He wanted to just sink his teeth into Scott's throat, but he knew within that split second of what just happened that he got lucky. Scott was once an officer, too. Not many officers had shit aim.

 

It all seemed to happen so fast and slow at the same time. Scott staring into him with gun drawn, Carter showing up, a scream and a shot. Or was it a shot and a scream? Norman's heart jumped straight into his throat and he pulled the trigger.

 

One loud pop and it was over.

 

Everything else had felt like one of those dreams where everything moved in slow motion, but the moment he fired, everything snapped back.

 

He stared at the body long after it had fallen to the floor in a mess of blood and brain matter and it just didn't look real. There was no way this was  _ real _ . He still had his gun ready, as if expecting the corpse to jump up any second. The ringing in his ears gave way to the sound of rain and his own shuddering breath and the looping repeated thoughts of _ I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. _

 

Norman felt sick so he forced himself to look away. That's when he saw Carter and everything else was suddenly easy to ignore. He ran over to him, locking the safety on his gun and then shoving it into his pocket.

 

"Are you okay?" Norman rushed the words and didn't wait for Carter to reply. He was still standing and still breathing and still  _ alive _ and that was enough to make Norman want to collapse from the weight of worry rushing out of him.

 

Instead of letting himself collapse, Norman grabbed Carter by the front of his shirt, yanked him forward, and kissed him.

 

One moment, Carter was looking at a crumpled body. Nothing new. The next he was looking into a deeply freaked out Norman's face. But then WHOA WHOA WHOA.

 

Carter's hands reflexively shot to Norman's sides, holding the other man up before he was dragged down to the floor in... whatever this was.

 

The second that kiss broke, Carter took a short gasp for air.

 

"Is now really the time?!" Carter blurted in surprise. There wasn't anger there... just the lone, legitimate question. His eyes rapidly searched Norman's face, and when he finally blinked, he went right to the more important things at hand.

 

He saw the tear in Norman's coat and his mind latched straight onto that.

 

"Fuck, Jayden, when I heard you were shot I expected worse," Carter spoke quickly, one hand leaving Norman's side to hold onto Norman's shoulder. "Are you fucking okay?"

 

Shot? Oh. Right. Norman had almost forgotten about his arm after pushing the pain away for so long. Now that the adrenaline was wearing down he could feel the nerves throbbing around the wound. His lungs and muscles and  _ everything _ ached and burned. He was cold and sick and tired. And he just killed a man.

 

Granted anyone would say Scott Shelby deserved it, but that didn't change the fact that Norman  _ just killed someone _ . He ran through the entire scenario in his head in the space of five seconds but he wasn't even sure if he was looking to justify or condemn himself and it didn't matter because his mind fast forward to remind him  _ he also kissed Blake _ .

 

Norman swallowed the heavy ball of emotion in his throat and pulled away from Carter. He hadn't answered the question yet; he didn't really know the answer.

 

"Let's get the hell out of here." Norman said in a tired, strained tone as he turned.

 

"You didn't fuckin' an-"

 

Fuck it, Carter just let out a slow, heavy sigh and put a hand to his face. He then took a moment to look at Scott Shelby. He had a whole bunch of words to say to him that were useless now.

 

His hand still ached, so Carter reached for his phone awkwardly with his other hand. Time to bug Ash one more time.

 

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's all good here. And we got the bastard."

 

Carter's voice was a lot more calm now, a bit of a surprise given the situation. He started to walk forward with slow steps, a mindless action to go with talking on the phone. As he passed Norman, his free hand touched the center of Norman's back.

 

"I'm not sure of the location, it's, ah..."

 

As Carter hesitated in thought, he took another step forward, his hand sliding away from Norman as he gave instructions to where the body was, looking around the room as if noticing it for the first time. Carter hadn't even hung up with Ash before the sound of a chopper passed overhead, and a few lights flashed through the grimey and busted windows. He hung up just before the first officers came in. He stopped and turned to look at Norman, agreeing with the last words he'd heard from him; "Well, let's go."

 

Norman had to take a breath to steady his heart, which felt like it was trying to flip itself out of his chest. He couldn't look at Carter at the moment, since he was the reason it was behaving like that in the first place.

 

Norman walked numbly, following the same route backwards out of memory. The rain was slowing, but it hadn't stopped completely. He was already soaked, anyway.

 

At least the throbbing, bloody wound on his arm was distracting him from his withdrawals. He still hoped the EMT's would patch him up and give him something for the pain. He could really use something heavy and narcotic right about now.

 

Carter Blake certainly wasn't thinking about  _ that _ little event, either. People did strange things under stress, and even stranger things when finally freed from all of the pressure from being under that stress.

 

Yep.

 

Carter picked up his gun before he followed Norman who seemed too eager to get out of there. Carter looked over his gun, glad there wasn't too much damage done to it, but he was considering getting a replacement of it anyway. He caught up to Norman.

 

Once outside, officers and other important looking people passed them by in a rush, a few of them throwing a positive word at Carter for a job well done. Carter stopped just for a moment when he was almost about to move ahead of Norman.

 

"You doin' all right?"

 

The question was just vague enough.

 

"No." The word practically fell out of Norman's mouth. He almost regretted it, but then again, he didn't. He just shut his mouth and pressed on towards the EMT's. He'd bother with figuring out the context later. Or maybe not.

 

Carter just stopped and  _ looked _ at Norman. He watched Norman walk along without a word. He watched from that spot even as he got the medical attention he needed. He wanted to offer Norman an out from all of this noise: to his car, the office, his place, Norman's place, a fucking diner for a drink and something non-alcoholic for a change, anything.

 

Carter looked away, and just as he did so, already had lower ranking officers coming up to him asking questions.

 

Carter fell back easily into his usual role. This was a crime scene now, and it was a murder of sorts, after all, and he was the single best witness to what happened. Good thing he was friends with Perry or this report would be a hard one to put together. He left Norman out of the explanations he offered.

 

It was getting pretty fucking cold with all this rain water everywhere.

 

Norman sat quietly and let the EMT's work, most of the time staring straight forward and trying to shoo away any intrusive thoughts that tried to claw their way in. He would face them soon enough, but not right now. Someone wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. Another asked him about allergies to medication or something. He hoped he was giving the right answers.

 

One medic was at his side, flooding out the shot and stitching it closed. He winced and bit his bottom lip to try to fight off the pain. Another nurse shook his shoulder to get his attention. When he looked up, he saw he was being offered a couple of pills and he couldn't have taken them faster.

 

As he waited for them to take effect, Norman let his eyes wander across the mess of red and blue lights and officers and others running around. It didn't take long before he settled on Carter, watching him interact and direct people and generally do what he did best. Norman wondered if all his complaining of Carter's coldness had been born out of jealousy, because right now he'd give anything to be able to turn everything off.

 

After he was finally patched up, he, after a quick thank you and handing back the blanket, slid out of the medical van and began walking towards his car.

 

Like a goddamn  _ curse _ , the first journalists and gawkers were showing up. It was probably the helicopters that gave them away, and the damn EMTs insisting they make their presence known to as many people as possible. Or somebody squealed, and told somebody else they got the famed Origami Killer, and word like that spread like a hungry wildfire. 

 

It was kind of sobering to think of it that way. Carter had just been looking at the lifeless body of the man who lead directly to the deaths of nearly a dozen innocent children. Hey, he didn't think Scott Shelby would be so easy to get, with only one casualty... that being Norman's arm.

 

Carter then looked up from whatever the fuck he was looking at on this clipboard he was handed, quickly trying to seek out Norman. Shouldn't he be looking for John and his kid or something? What about that woman who-ah,  _ fuck it _ , was he  _ really _ needed here right now?

 

"Look," Carter passed the clipboard haphazardly to whomever would take it, "I've been hot on this dirtbag's trail since... I can't even  _ remember _ , I'm gonna wrap this up at the office and take a..."

 

Oh, jesus, was that a van, it was a fucking news van, he was going to kill Perry if they were going to try and drill him for a statem... oh god DAMN it, his phone was ringing.

 

He looked one more time for Norman. He was out of Carter's sight.

 

Reluctantly, Carter answered his phone. Sure enough, it was Perry. Carter got to play the media monkey until he showed up. Not how he wanted to spend the fucking dawn tonight, that was for sure.


	8. Chapter 8

Norman had gotten home, thrown all of his dripping wet clothes to the floor, and collapsed into his bed. He laid on his back, cold and pale but too tired to get up and put on his pajamas or even wrap himself in a blanket. It was the most exhausted he had felt in his life. His thoughts faintly drifted to the vial he had stored in his bedside table, but for once he didn't want to put the effort into even digging it out. A few minutes passed and he was asleep.

And he slept.

And slept.

The sun was up when he woke to a surprisingly rainless day. He had managed to wrap himself up in his blanket and was regretting it completely because he was now baking and soaked in sweat. However, the moment he kicked the blanket off he broke out into chills. Then coughs and trembles and he decided he had held off far fucking enough. He reached into the drawer and retrieved the vial. But he didn't hit it right away.

Norman laid on his back for a moment, holding it above his head so he could look at it in the sunlight. His hand was shaking and it made the drug slosh about tauntingly.

He thought back to Carter smashing the other vial. It felt like more time had passed than what really had. Why was he even thinking about that?

He found himself actually setting the vial down and instead reaching for his phone, which was sitting on top of the nightstand. He scrolled through the contacts to Carter's phone number, hesitated, hit the "call" button, then immediately hit "end" when a sudden jolt of anxiety shot through his chest.

He sat up, tossed the phone aside, picked up the vial, took an unsteady breath, and finally took a hit.

 

* * *

 

Some day off. Some vacation.

Carter was at his desk at the office the next day. It always seemed busy at the office, even if he wasn't part of the bustle. He supposed it was a thing for all cops. He never thought of himself as a workaholic, yet here he was.

And he spent most of the time spinning his chair slowly to the left and to the right, dangling a pen between forefinger and thumb, staring at nothing in particular.

He'd received multiple congratulations already. Usually, he didn't get this much attention in relation to crime solving, but the whole office knew what sort of feelings were attached to the Origami Killer case.

Ash spent most of the time refiling the same folders on his desk, watching Carter fritter away the time.

"Hey, guys," Captain Perry hurried over to their desks. He was fussing with his necktie. Really, the man could use a personal assistant dedicated to just keeping him looking good. "You know, we should have a drink together again sometime. Perhaps even invite that agent kid. Oh, speaking of. Have you heard from Agent Jayden? I've got some paperwork to fill out to send back with him to Washington."

Carter had started to turn back to face his desk and Perry - then he heard that last part. Carter accidentally dropped his pen onto his desk with an anticlimactic thud.

"Nnnnope, can't say that I have," Carter avoided looking at the pen, and looked straight at Perry. "Guess I could give him a call or something. If I feel like it."

"Great," Perry smiled. "Now then, off to the conference room I go!"

"You have been in press conferences all day!" Ash shouted after Perry, leaning backwards in his chair until his head was nearly upside down, refusing to put the effort into just turning his chair around.

But Perry was already gone.

Ash straightened up and looked at Carter.

"This reminds me," Ash began. "You did not seem to pass Agent Jayden much of the attention."

"Eh. He didn't seem like he was in the mood for that kinda thing."

"Mm-hm."

Carter was spinning the pen in circles on his desk with a single finger, and then stopped.

Ash cut that awfully short. _Weirdly_ , too.

Carter decided to actually get something done today and looked for his personal phone. He had considered since the news cameras party last night to try and contact Norman. It couldn't hurt to leave a message or throw a text or something, but he didn't think he'd get a response anyway. And that was more awkward, getting ignored.

Carter unlocked the screen and saw a missed message. Strange. He had his phone in his top desk drawer, where he was sure he'd have heard all the buzzing rattling to get out of its confines. He looked at the number, and although he didn't realize it until several seconds after the fact, his heart felt like it stopped.

Well.

Carter had an awkward moment there. He looked away from his phone and picked the one up on his desk instead, dialing Norman's number. He'd both do what he told Perry he would do, and not make it obvious by using his personal phone number. Strictly professional, yet casual, yet he was going to punch Ash straight in the face if he didn't stop smirking at him like that.

Carter waited through the rings, and Ash laughed to himself as he got up and walked away just a second before Carter threw the phone at him.

 

* * *

 

Regardless of whomever was calling him, Norman completely ignored his phone in favor of letting his head drop back with a thud against the headboard. Funny, there was this odd twinge of guilt winding in his chest. There was always a sense of disappointment when he gave in to the addiction, sure, but this…

This was actual _guilt_. And every ring from his phone made it twist tighter and dig in deeper.

Norman grabbed the device up just as it stopped ringing, which was just as well because he wasn't sure if he would have answered or hit ignore anyway. His eyes lingered on the number in the missed call alert. It was the police station and technically could have been anyone, but he had more than a sneaking suspicion about who it was that called.

Another stab of guilt.

He cleared the alert then lingered on the home screen. After a moment he pulled open the contacts list again, found Carter and, still too anxious to call, opened a new text. He stared at the blank field thinking _this is stupid_ before finally punching in "Sorry I was busy" and hitting send. He tossed the phone back down like it was on fire and then proceeded to stare at it warily.

 

* * *

 

Carter was already flirting with Charlene again.

She stopped by his desk and he was almost amazed at how little his eyes wandered down the particular cut of her shirt today.

What if it was something Norman did to h-

"Carter?" Charlene's face turned into worry. "Are you alright? You suddenly seem... pale."

"What? Oh. Yeah. I just realized I forgot about a certain gag note on Perry's desk. Gotta follow through with it or I'm gonna be in serious trouble this time."

"Okay," Charlene laughed and rolled her eyes, but she didn't seem to buy that.

At least she left.

Carter heard the buzz of his phone this time. He snatched it.

Oh. Okay.

Carter dropped his phone carelessly back on his desk surface.

Maybe it was time to finally conquer Minesweeper.

 

* * *

 

Norman wouldn't deny that he felt a little bit disappointed when a reply didn't come.

He sighed and finally climbed out of bed, pulled on some underwear and jeans (because it seemed like forever since he had worn something actually comfortable) and then headed into the bathroom. He checked his arm in the mirror and made a mental note to change out the gauze bandages later. He avoided looking directly at himself because he knew no matter what he probably wasn't going to like the mess he'd see.

He finally left the bathroom, grabbed a white t-shirt from his dresser and pulled it on as he walked into his living room. He loitered around the kitchen for a while but didn't eat anything. Then he sat down on the couch but didn't even turn on the TV. Then he finally gave in, got up, went back into the bedroom and grabbed up his phone.

No new messages.

He resisted the urge to throw the thing at the wall and instead sent another text saying "Were you calling for something important??" all the while mentally cursing at himself.

 

* * *

 

After that last game, Carter started to realize just how much he swore in a day.

Another officer handed him yet another paper. Carter thanked him as he took it and looked it over. Ah, shit. He did forget about that. With his case solved, he still had a lot of follow-up to do. He left valuable police equipment at John Vegara's house.

"Dummy."

Carter nearly flipped his entire _desk_.

Ash was standing right behind him, reading the paper, and sipping his coffee. Coffee from a donut shop, and not from the office. And now, Carter started to realize just how little he and Ash followed the rules in a day.

"No visit?" Ash pointed at the paper with his coffee. "Terrible."

"Why the fuck should I go back there? I work in homicide. His kid didn't _die_."

"Thanks to you," Ash pointed out.

Carter stiffly let the subject go.

"I'll just go pick it up now and bring it back and be done with it."

Carter's phone buzzing again caught both of their attentions. Carter picked it up and saw another text message. He read it as he picked up his coat and other things to drive out on his errand. Without thinking, Carter muttered his response out loud.

"Not here for your shift comes to mind..."

Ash smiled behind his coffee while Carter stuffed his phone away and headed out of the office.

Carter's mind was surprisingly blank as he drove to John's apartment. It felt like ages since he saw real sunlight in this town.

He pulled the car into... not his usual spot. He parked two cars beside the non-vacant spot in front of John's apartment. If they guy had company, his apartment must look strange, what with gadgets and guns and papers all over the place. Whoops.

Carter knocked on the door.

John answered the door looking surprisingly clean and awake for a man who just spent the entire night vigilantly watching over his son. The hospital had released Cole into his care around six in the morning and the boy had been quietly resting in his father's room the whole day. His ex-wife was surprisingly okay with it when he told her, probably because she had seen the news stories that had been rolling over every station since the night before. He smiled at the Lieutenant and moved aside to let him in.

"Back for your stuff?" John asked. "I was beginning to think you guys were gonna let me keep it all as souvenirs."

Lauren looked up from her spot on John's couch as Carter entered.

"Hello." She tried to offer him a smile, as fleeting as it was. She had also been up all night helping to keep watch over Cole.

"Yeah." Carter was civil when he wasn't hunting down murderers! He had a jealousy for how awake they seemed. They. He did give a briefly curious glance at Lauren, but wasn't going to ask. The case was done, he didn't care how or why it came to be.

He saw the briefcase and picked it up.

 

* * *

 

Norman had his phone sitting on his dining table in front of where he sat. He stared at it, as if he could will it to make Carter respond. He was starting to feel paranoid that _somehow_ Carter _knew_ that he had used drugs again and he was pissed off and didn't want to have anything to- NO. _Stop it this is stupid._

_Fuck._

He picked up the phone again, opened a blank text, closed the blank text, opened it again and sent "Guess not then". He just wanted a fucking reply. _Any_ fucking reply.

 

* * *

 

Carter felt his phone buzz in his coat.

"Ah, 'scuse me." Carter took out the phone. _Another_ text?

From Norman. Again.

Okay so now it was getting a little strange. It would be rude to start texting in front of company, though, especially standing in their doorway.

"Sorry to cut this short," Carter tucked the phone away again. "I got other places to get to today. You, uh... have that shoebox?"

"Yeah, it's right here." John grabbed the box from under the coffee table. "I really am thankful for everything you guys did to help me find Cole, you know. I can't say it enough!"

John walked over to hand the box to Carter.

"Thanks."

"How's Agent Jayden doing? I know it's gotta be rough seeing your partner hurt like that..."

...

What?

"Uh, yeah, I guess," Carter was a little puzzled. "It could have gone better, but he's not exactly used to working with us. I didn't expect him to go in for you."

Carter almost said something along the lines of Norman being a more sensitive guy than he was.

"Well, if you and Cole ever need help from us again, you know who to ask for."

Carter gave a charming smile, even if it was mostly just part of the polite routine, and looked around John to give a special nod to Lauren.

Then he was off, carrying the suitcase with the shoebox tucked under the same arm.

 

* * *

 

Now Norman _knew_ he was being ignored. He wondered if he should just stop and leave him alone because that was probably what Carter was wishing he'd do. There was a bigger part of him that couldn't though, for whatever reason. Even if all he got was a message telling him to jump off a bridge at least _that_ would be better than nothing. His fingers hovered over the touch keyboard before slowly typing two words and hitting send.

"I’m sorry."

 

* * *

 

Carter thought of how he really could have used more than the couple hours he had to sleep, ignoring another buzz of his phone from his coat. He loaded up his car and got ready to leave. After settling into the driver's seat, he took out his phone again to read the message.

...Reading that didn't exactly make him feel right.

His response was to make a call this time. He was really eager to get in touch with Norman now, not bothering to use a bluetooth headset to scrape by the driving-while-chatting-on-the-phone laws. What, was he going to get pulled over by a cop?

He would have laughed at that if he weren't so impatient, nearly driving through an intersection and bypassing a stop sign.

 

* * *

 

Norman nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard his phone ring. All of his anxiety tied itself together and dropped like a brick into his stomach. All that work to get Carter to respond, and now that he did Norman was panicking. _Man up, goddammit, you're an adult for crying out loud._

He snatched up the phone, hit the answer button, completely lost his nerve and blurted out:

"About fucking time, Blake."

"Well what the fuck, Norman?" Carter responded coolly. "I was at work, _working_ , unlike somebody else I- FUCKIN' LEARN TO DRIVE, GRANDMA. Sorry. Driving. What's up?"

Norman actually felt himself smile listening to Carter's questionable driving. He'd never been more thankful for his willingness to bend the rules.

"I..." What? He hadn't really thought through what he would say if he actually got this far. He sighed and rubbed his fingers over his mouth in thought before finally speaking up again. "I couldn't come in today. I... sorry I let you have all the glory for yourself."

Norman tried to laugh but it came out more nervous than anything.

"You have an odd way of being passive aggressive. You should work on it." Without actually thinking about it, Carter had driven to Norman's apartment. "Did your arm rot off already or something?"

"Not yet. Hurts enough that I wish it would though." Norman found himself relaxing back against the couch. "How's your hand?"

"Heh, what are you tryin' to say, Norman?" Carter’s smirk was almost audible. What was he, twelve?

Funny, Carter thought to himself. He could have sworn something was seriously wrong, but unless zombies were a lot smarter than fiction warned, Norman wasn't dead or anything.

"Look, I was in the neighborhood on an errand. Mind if I stop by? Not gonna let you be the only one to play hooky here."

"Sure why not." Norman hardly felt the words leave his mouth. This was the _worst_ possible time, all wrecked and supplementing tripto for emotion, to have Carter stalking around _looking_ at him. His stomach flipped at the thought.

"See ya then."

But first, donuts.

Something he openly neglected to tell Norman about before hanging up. He didn't even pick something up for Norman. He ordered two donuts and ate them both himself on the way back to Norman's apartment.

Parked outside in the relatively empty lot, Carter headed for Norman's door. For an FBI agent, you'd think his employers would have paid for something a little better than this, but Carter didn't exactly have many positive things to remember about the place to begin with.

Briefly, he wondered exactly _what_ he was doing here.

Perry did mention needing to see Norman anyway. Carter was bound to end up in contact with Norman one way or another. Carter knocked on the door, so very tempted to try and walk in right afterwards just as if this were Norman's pathetic office back at the station.

While he had waited, Norman had got up and made himself busy by cleaning up his apartment. He picked up his clothes, cleaned the singular dirty dish in his sink and made sure to hide anything _incriminating_ in his nightstand. He was pondering making his bed, if only to keep his hands busy, when he heard the knock on the front door.

He paused outside the bathroom to make sure he didn't look too disheveled. It was just Carter, but the last thing he needed was to arouse any _more_ suspicion. Norman finally answered the door.

"What, did you get lost or something?"

Carter wanted to make a joke about never trusting GPS again.

"Detour," he lied.

"Right." Norman smiled and stepped away from the door. "Well, come on in, fellow slacker."

Carter took the invitation and stepped inside. That would make this the third time now. Might as well make the best of it this time.

Carter wandered further in, taking his time looking around at every corner. Each time he had been here, the place looked different. He stopped and looked at Norman now, taking in his casual appearance. Rare, but not new.

He held his tongue. He wanted to give Norman another verbal jab about his capabilities in fetching ladies right now, but then he'd relive that moment in the warehouse, and realize that maybe, just maybe, that wasn't on ANY priority list.

Not that he was still thinking about it.

"It just doesn't seem like you," Carter thought out loud, resuming his slow meandering. "Even if you can't pick up another case until you're back in Washington, you're always busy, preoccupied with something else."

Carter withheld a sound of amusement. He used similar excuses himself often, usually supported by 'women love a working man.' Another jest he didn't make.

He wasn't sure why he was consciously stopping himself from his usual sexual harassment. That's what it was, after all, wasn't it? Whatever it was, it was starting to annoy him that he was even caring that much about it.

"Maybe I'm feeling a little burnt out? I _did_ kill someone yesterday." Norman leaned against the arm of his sofa, arms crossed and eyes following Carter. He wasn't angry or even bitter, more wary if anything. He'd tucked away anything he didn't want Carter to see, but the worry still ran in a thin string under his skin.

"Gotta say, though, you're one hell of a shot." Carter sounded genuinely impressed.

"Lucky for you." Norman couldn't help a small smile at the compliment. He pulled his hand away from his neck and let his fingers worry his mouth instead, subconsciously covering the smile. "Guess it sort of makes us even."

Carter could _not_ believe he almost asked what for. His eyes hit the floor. He turned around and looked at Norman.

"That was a little different," Carter worded carefully, taking a few steps closer.

"How was it different?" Norman asked, watching Carter's steps and feeling that nervous string tighten a bit.

"I wasn't tied up, for starters." Carter's voice turned serious. He walked right passed where Norman sat. "Sure as hell wasn't as one-sided, either."

"Yeah well... I didn't have time to think about it. I couldn't let him kill you." Norman said, staying where he was and staring at the floor as he spoke. "I'd be even worse off if I had to watch you die instead of him."

"It's not like he was innocent, Jayden," Carter stopped and looked at Norman, slightly behind him. "I'd have done a lot worse to him than you did had I got him first."

"He wasn't innocent, but it was still the first time. It still..." Norman sighed. "My coping skills weren't built for this, as we 'psychology degree bureaucrats' say."

Carter actually laughed, a throaty sound rather than out loud.

"First time!" The condescendence returned to Carter's voice. "It's okay, we're all a little embarrassed about our first time!"

Carter's hand clapped on top of Norman's shoulder, opposite of the wound. He wasn't even _trying_ to be subtle.

"It'll be easier next time. Besides, I could tell you've practiced."

"It was a night of a couple of 'first times', at least I _think_." Norman commented simply, looking at the hand on his shoulder, then to Carter, then off to the side again. If Carter was gonna go _there_ , then Norman was gonna go **there**.

"Not that I regret it or anything," Norman said as he pushed away from the couch.

"What-oh." Carter's thoughts crashed right out of his mouth.

He didn't mean it like **that** when he was saying it like _that_.

"Right," Carter said slowly. "Guess I couldn't just let that one go without a word, huh?"

Carter went back to his pacing. Awkwardly avoiding the topic altogether, _forever_ , would have been more normal. Normal. Right. Carter made little effort to hide his critical staring. Looking straight at Norman.

A detail-oriented man, trained to look for out-of-place things in every little nook and cranny in the world. Linking together facts and truths with the hard, physical evidence. He was no psychologist, but he could easily piece together a lot right now.

He almost wanted to call out that 'first times' thing for bullshit. But he also knew Norman was a lot more fragile than he seemed. Carter shook his head and suddenly looked away.

"Not sure why you aren't better at hiding things from me, Norman. Even when I'm trying not to look, for your sake."

"I haven't really hidden some things as much as I haven't talked about them explicitly." Norman replied as he crossed the room. His throat was starting to feel dry, he really needed a drink right now. "And other things, well... I'll try harder."

Carter just nodded slowly, again watching Norman.

"Well," Carter finally spoke. "Want me to go?"

This was the perfect opportunity, Norman thought as he stared blankly into his refrigerator and pretended to be heavily weighing the pros and cons of all three drink options he had. He could tell Carter to leave, then he could throw himself back in the bed and spend the rest of the day drowning any unwanted feelings in drugs and ARI games.

His face was getting cold. He grabbed a bottle of water then called over the fridge door: "Do you want something to drink?"

Carter didn't respond right away.

"I'm supposed to be at the office, you know." Carter gave in, and sat at Norman's dining table. "But since I'm here, might as well deliver the message. Perry asked me to find you. He wants to form some kind of review of the case with you. Ready to send you off back where you came without a hitch, probably."

"Oh."

This was perfectly normal procedure, nothing surprising. Tie up the loose ends, sign all the necessary paperwork, get shoved on the next flight home. On to the next adventure as it were.

So, why was it so disappointing?

Norman realized he'd been standing in front of the dining table holding two bottles of water and quickly walked over to Carter and set one down in front of him.

"Stay, then."

"Sure," Carter shrugged. He leaned back in his chair with a slouch that threatened both the integrity of the chair and the safety of his spine. "Wasn't going to leave anyway. It's not like I wanna run on, what?"

Carter looked at his watch. Fuck math, he gave up counting and rounded.

"Three, four hours of sleep? And I went home early last night."

"You're welcome to use my bed if you want." Norman laughed a little.

"What?" Carter blinked. "No."

"What? Do you have a problem sleeping in another man's bed, Carter?"

Carter opened his mouth to reply. And there were no words coming out. So he awkwardly closed his mouth shut. He even sheepishly tried again, and then broke into a soft, embarrassed laugh, avoiding eye contact with Norman for the moment as he looked away.

"That's one hell of a loaded question, isn't it?" Carter hazarded, reaching to grab his drink from the table based entirely on memory because he couldn't quite look back at the conversation at the moment.

"Only because you're making it one." Norman sipped from his own water, a smirk still tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched Carter. This was the most amusing thing he'd seen in awhile. It was about time Carter was the one having awkward anxiety for once. "It's not like I asked you to sleep with _me_ , you know."

"Heh." Carter couldn't believe it. "You got me there."

Carter wore a smile as he stared at the wall, the natural reaction for not knowing what else to do.

He was suddenly thirsty and took a sip of water.

"About time someone did." Norman said with a proud, satisfied sort of smile as he sat his bottle down and leaned forward a bit. "I'd like to point out that you didn't exactly say 'no' either."

"It was the context!" Carter looked right back at Norman. "So I opened the door wide open for that one, got it. What did you want me to say? Huh?"

"You really don't wanna know." Norman said dangerously, holding eye contact despite the sudden increase in his pulse. "Loaded questions get loaded answers, whether you realize you're giving them or not."

Okay, hold up. Carter took a very solid second to think about this. Locking a stare with Norman's eyes wasn't helping, either.

"I didn't have to come here, you know," Carter's eyes shifted slightly behind Norman as he shrugged, taking another drink of water. "I told you what I had to. I'm done here."

Carter left the challenge on the table, but... quickly retracted it himself.

"So I get a little overprotective."

"That's fine." Norman's smile softened a little and he leaned back. "But you asked to come here instead of just telling me over the phone that Perry wants me to help wrap things up. Something that's really sort of trivial to go outta your way for. So, I just wonder... do you feel better now that you've checked up on me?"

No.

"Better than last year," Carter shrugged his shoulders slightly.

His glance was both dangerous and vulnerable as he looked back into Norman's eyes.

It took a moment for the heaviness of those words to hit, but when they did it was like a sharp stone. His smile fell. Replaced with hurt. Replaced with guilt. It was his turn to avoid eye contact. "Yeah well, I'm being more careful."

Norman hadn't really paid attention to the words until they already were out.

Carter continued to stare at Norman. He saved his own skin, but at what cost? He wasn't fucking blind, either.

Carter didn't say a word as he changed his position in the chair, leaning forward slightly with his elbows on his knees. He still stared at Norman and stifled a sigh. Well, you only live once, right? Carter stood up without a word. He hardly had to take a step forward to reach Norman.

"Here you go," Carter's voice came low and steady. "Jayden."

He put his gloved hand against Norman's cheek and forced Norman to look at him.

"I was scared. I was scared then, I was scared last night, and I didn't want to have to... deal with what I was afraid of. Today, or ever. Got it?" Carter quickly pulled his hand away. "Make of that whatever you will."

Carter turned, and started to leave, his cell phone already in one hand and car keys in the other.

Norman sat for just a second as all of his coherent thought disintegrated. Then he stood and took a couple of long strides to catch Carter's shirtsleeve. He pulled slightly to turn him around. He planned to just ask Carter to wait but ended up saying:

"Okay."

Then Norman leaned forward and gave him a slow and painfully short kiss.

Much like the previous night, Carter didn't react at first. Except that behavior lingered this time. He stood still and quiet, hating, for a brief moment, just how short he was compared to Norman. It made the situation all the more strange for him than it already was.

He needed time to think.

He didn't understand his situation.

His hands moved very slowly, returning the items into his pockets, and he left both hands in his coat. He could feel Norman's breath on his lips.

"I'm." Carter held back the swallow his throat wanted to make. "Straight." His mind fucking panicked. "Norman."

So this is what it felt like to leap off a goddamn cliff and into a serrated canyon.

His own body leaned slightly forward.

"So I don't know what to do with you," Carter spoke low and quiet into Norman's ear.

Holy _shit_ , he could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

Was this a whole fucking year's worth?

Norman felt his insides melt.

"I have some ideas." Norman practically choked on the words. Every nerve was crawling with electricity. The room was suddenly too hot. He could barely breathe. He turned his head and his warm, unsteady breath panted over Carter's neck as he spoke. "I can tell you sometime."

Wh- _whoa_ Carter was not prepared for that.

"Yeah, I," Carter almost choked on his own voice, "gotta get back to the office, I have that shit we left at John's house in my car and they're looking for it so-"

When the fuck did his hand leave his coat, and end up holding onto Norman's wrist?

Mutiny. His body was committing the act of mutiny.

"I'll catch you later."

Carter reluctantly tore himself away from Norman and went for the door. Halfway out the door, he slowed down to look back slightly.

"Just-...don't do anything stupid. You look good today."

And Carter slammed that door shut and went back to his fucking job.


	9. Chapter 9

A week of…

...quiet tension wondering if Norman was going to show up on time, if at all.

...distant glances sheepishly shared between Carter and Norman.

...subtle yet very upfront 'suggestions' from Norman in all too casual passing.

...hiding facial reactions from Ash, Carter claiming that he must be coming down with something and having to loosen his tie a lot to cool off.

...the office scandal where Carter and Charlene apparently disappeared into a janitorial closet for half an hour.

...fucking Minesweeper.

And now it was almost over. Washington was ready to have their agent back home.

As they had planned earlier, Carter and his close coworkers were going to celebrate with good old alcohol. Perry even insisted on actually bringing Norman along as a farewell party for him. And to 'get that kid out of his shell,' as Perry put it.

Maybe get himself a girl, he even added.

And Carter had glared as Ash laughed a little too hard at the suggestion.

There weren't too many places in town that the chief of police and his comrades could go to get absolutely shitfaced. Perry, Carter, and Ash all took Norman to their watering hole of choice. It was also the only place that knew what 'gravy fries' were, no little thanks in part to Ash.

The four of them had a table to themselves, already piled with glasses and baskets of food. Perry did most of the talking. Ash stared with a long face at the nearest TV, trying to follow the ultra American sport it displayed, his heart pining further for his missing hockey season.

Carter's eyes shifted to the pretty girl serving them more drinks. He all too casually reached out with a hand and cupped her ass, giving one cheek a firm _squeeze_ that lasted a little longer than just a quick tease.

The girl squeaked, but then gave Carter a coy look. She swayed her hips to get away from his hand but smiled anyway, knowing there'd be tips in this for sure.

And that girl _knew_ they were police officers. Carter sure played his games dangerously.

Norman just wanted to go home. This wasn't his type of scene. All noise with glasses clinking and shouting and TV's blaring so the shouting had to grow even louder. At least there was beer. And food, if it could be called that. Given his _condition_ he was barely picking at it anyway.

Ash asked something about the current standings of the teams that were playing and Norman gave some short, but accurate, response, smiling and taking another swig of what was his third beer.

Another comment about how he'd never pegged Norman as much of a sports fan. He almost wanted to be offended but, thinking back on the reasons he originally started watching football in high school, he realized Ash's assumption wasn't too far off. He sure wasn't in it for the statistics.

Norman found himself casting more and more glances Carter's way. Except for when he groped that waitress. Then he blatantly looked away with a roll of his eyes. The word "slut" crossed his mind, and he wasn't quite sure if it was aimed at the girl or Carter.

Well, if Carter wanted to make such a display of his lecherousness, Norman could at least test that confidence a bit. If his psychology professors knew how much he was abusing his education right now…

He fought a smirk, glanced up at the TV and stealthily reached his foot out under the table to rub it along Carter's leg.

Carter stared at Norman. He could ignore accidents. It happened. But he could feel the curve of Norman's shoe along the back of his calf.

His hand remained perfectly still on his glass. It took a fair amount to get him drunk off his ass, but he always drank as much as possible when having these outings. And here he was, with the whole crew, it was expected he'd get a ride home, probably from a taxi depending on the others.

But he wasn't drunk enough for this. He couldn't ever get drunk enough for this.

Carter cleared his throat, disguising it as a cough.

He kept staring at Norman, although it was with more... _interest_ than it was disgust or anger. Most everyone else in the bar was watching the televisions at the moment for the game's final minutes. Apparently it was a very intense game. Ash was yelling, too, although mostly in confusion, but Carter had to admit:

He wasn't paying one fucking bit of attention to the game anymore.

Norman locked eyes with Carter. He lifted his beer back to his lips, being very sure to let his smile be seen around the rim before he took a drink. As he drank, he let his foot trail down, then switch over to rub up the inside of Carter's calf this time. He may have let his tongue linger a little bit on the edge of the bottle before setting it back down. It was nice to know he hadn't completely forgotten how to seduce in all these years.

Carter's mind blanked.

It's why he never kept beer at the house. If he drank, he couldn't work. He was usually only capable of acknowledging what was directly in front of him until he passed out from not knowing when to stop.

Norman was in front of him right now. And he had a long ways to go before he was at the passing out stage. Or even the throwing up stage. Or the point where he knew he forgot the shit he did when piss drunk.

He didn't even know if he could get it up for a dude. Didn't matter. The bathroom. The cab. His place. Wherever the fuck he could get his shot, he would-

-oh _Christ_ he really was thinking about doing unspeakable things with Norman.

FUCK.

That's when the bar broke down into the obvious cheers and jeers from the results of the game. Thank god Ash was talking to Perry at the moment instead of him or Norman. Maybe Ash picked up on their behavior. Whatever, he'd yell at Ash later for it, total bullshit or otherwise.

Right now he had to suppress the small groan of excitement as he gave Norman a particular little nod he usually reserved for women with nice racks, and finished off his own beer.

Norman felt a thrill shoot right through him, spreading lower and lower like fire. He very easily retracted his foot and rejoined the conversation with Ash and Perry, mostly helping to answer Ash's numerous drunken questions and to laugh at the man's pining for hockey. He stole a couple of lingering glances at Carter, feeling that hot tingle every time he caught his eyes. He made sure to turn his head to just the right angle when he took a drink so Carter could see him tongue the rim, wrap his lips around the cool glass.

He was feeling heady, and it was hardly from the alcohol.

"Alright, it's been fun, really." He said, setting his empty bottle down. "I still have a lot of packing to do."

Lie.

"And now I get to do it with a hangover." Norman smiled as he got to his feet, using the back of his chair to catch himself when he felt a little light headed.

Carter's tongue wandered over the inside of his bottom lip for a moment. He tore his eyes away from Norman as he pulled out his cell phone.

"Got it, I'm callin' a cab now. I already said I'd drop you off t'morrow so I better be conscious for it, right?" He put the phone to his ear. "Get some air, Jayden, I'll be a sec."

The cab company was familiar with bar calls, so that didn't last very long. Carter did take a few moments to converse with Ash and Perry some more, who planned to stay until closing time. He thought it would help sort out his head, distracting his mind far away from the ideas he was having earlier.

It didn't.

Carter said his brief farewells and left his tab up to those two. Like a good friend.

Carter managed to get out of the bar without stumbling over his feet, and he put both gloves on the correct hands the first time. He stepped outside and the night air was a cold punch to the face that he probably needed, but he still felt incredibly hot under his coat.

The streets were clear at the moment. Norman was right outside the bar. He put the two together.

Carter moved to stand right beside Norman. Instead, he put a hand flat against the brick wall beside Norman's head and stood directly in front of him.

He definitely eyed Norman with a dark intent behind his gaze.

"You gonna make good of your suggestions back there?"

Carter dared him first.

Norman smirked and pressed his fingers against Carter's chest, but not to shove him away. He let them slide down a few inches, over his sternum, then a little lower to pause at his abdomen. He leaned in until he knew Carter could feel the heat of his breath.

"More than you know." Norman's fingers twisted in the fabric of Carter's coat.

Carter felt his insides turn completely over every inch of the way behind those fingers.

Fuck. Holy fuck.

He retracted his earlier thoughts about if he would even able to do anything remotely risqué with Norman. The priorities his body was selecting for heat were telling enough. The last time he felt heat knot that fast right in the pit of his stomach he was still a fucking _virgin_ and he wasn't sure if he was excited or uncomfortable.

His free hand grabbed onto Norman's wrist tightly.

"Then _be careful you don't regret anything._ " Carter's voice was so low, quiet, _threatening_ , **_husky_**.

He slowly wrung Norman's wrist away from him, his eyes never leaving Norman's. Their faces were so close to touching. His mouth was parted slightly. He suddenly wanted his tongue inside Norman's mouth, but he used every last bit of his will to force himself to hold back. Don't do it. Not _yet_.

All he could hear were their breaths, the sound of dripping rain gutters, and the distant sound of a vehicle. Whether it was the cab or not, Carter wasn't about to get caught out here like this and forced himself away, shoving Norman against the wall as he did so.

Norman straightened his sleeves with a couple smooth, short tugs before he stepped away from to the wall and walked towards the cab as it pulled up. It was an older car, probably barely legal. He would have thought twice about climbing into the monstrous yellow deathtrap if he hadn't had more important priorities.

He had to fight a devious sort of smile when he looked up to give the driver directions and noticed the privacy panel. Well then. These cab companies were well aware of the sort of deviants that used their services after all.

Norman yanked down the screen and told the driver how to get to his place, then casually asked for an ETA. About ten minutes. Perfect. He closed the screen back up tightly.

Norman pretended to be calmly straightening his clothes while the car was still parked. The moment it started moving however, he slid across the back seat and leaned in to give Carter a misleading kiss. He didn't actually let their lips touch, smiling just centimeters away instead while his hands worked at Carter's belt.

"So, are you a screamer?" Norman asked lowly as the buckle came undone and he started unfastening Carter's fly. "Actually, don't answer. I'll find out myself."

A bite of his lip, then he ducked down to see if he remembered any other skills he picked up back in school.

Wait.

Wait. Wait. Wait.

All the complex plans Carter had about getting Norman into his place flew clear out the window. He started to back up towards the door where he sat, even as the vehicle moved. Carter had a small, sharp intake of breath as Norman was on him faster than he ever anticipated.

Aw fuck no he wasn't a screamer, he panicked as his hands shot for Norman to pull him off before he-

Something Carter was, however, was a whimperer.

"Oh holy fuck, Jayden."

That was all Carter could manage at this instant.

Norman paused in his teasing of Carter's erection to look right up at him, smile wickedly, and then let his tongue lave over the head before using his whole mouth again. His own hips rocked forward from the friction of his clothes against his own hardness. He groaned, but kept his hands busy with Carter instead. Anything more and he'd lose it.

Of course, he didn't want either of them to end this before they even got started. So he finally pulled away, wiping his saliva off his mouth with the back of his sleeve and slid back into his side of the backseat, leaving Carter to handle himself, as it were.

He didn't want to get caught. _He didn't want to get caught._ Norman may be kosher with this sort of thing but Carter didn't want anyone, not even a fucking cab driver, to get the wrong idea.

"Fuckin'... _shit_ , what-?"

Carter was cursing just under his breath, and his last word sounded pitiful. His eyes focused on Norman as he pulled away and invited himself to sit in the cab like a normal human being.

What Carter wouldn't give to slam his hand against that window and push Norman so hard into the backseat he'd make the arrogant little fucker cry. His jaw was clenched tight, thinking about that for a second.

He didn't even know what he'd do exactly after getting him to submit like that.

"You're a fuckin' bastard," Carter snarled. It was tough to stay classy, tucking himself back in like that, trying to fight his own clothing as little as possible. Resisting the urge to stroke himself in the process.

Which he did anyway, after his eyes wandered down to check out how Norman was handling this situation. _Fuck_ , his partner for the last year was hot.

The cab was pulling into the apartment complex.

Okay, so at the very least Norman didn't get the satisfaction of making him break in ten minutes or less.

"Get the _fuck_ out, Norman," Carter made sure he was heard by the driver.

And the second that door opened he shoved Norman out with all of his strength, staying on his side of the cab.

"Rude." Norman commented after he stumbled out to the pavement. He managed to stay upright, which was amazing given the current amount of alcohol in his bloodstream.

Carter quickly got out through his door, and took his sweet time taking out his wallet. It's not like the driver could see... anything aside from a slightly flushed face if he really looked. And he _was_ drunk.

And angry.

And-

...well.

Carter nearly threw the cash at the driver. He was going to finish this shit with Norman right now.

Not even bothering to wait, Norman made his way to his front door. Carter would catch up, he could almost guarantee it. After fumbling with his keys for a moment, he finally found the right one and jammed it in, unlocked the handle and threw the door open triumphantly. Norman started to shrug off his jacket as he walked in. After all, things were about to get all kinds of hot if he had anything to say about it.

Carter did follow, squeezing his fists to crack his knuckles. He was going to strangle Norman. In a good way. Whatever the fuck _that_ meant, he didn't even know right now, he just let himself be driven by anger and lust until he was through the door.

Carter slammed the door shut.

He shot an arm out for Norman's neck.

Fuck his coat and his gloves and everything else, he had Norman back against the door in one move and he ground his hips hard into him. He was admittedly startled at how that... felt down there.

Norman didn't fight the hand at his throat, in fact he welcomed it with an anticipatory shiver.

One of Carter's hands pounded flat against the door. Much like outside the bar. Only now, shit just got real. Carter's other hand left Norman's throat and pulled hard at his shirt collar.

Carter gave Norman a kiss. Mouths open wide, teeth clacking together for a moment, tongue thrust in to threaten Norman's. It barely registered this was the first time he actually kissed Norman. Or any man. That he was aware of, anyway.

Norman's train of thought immediately derailed once Carter started kissing him. A soft, needy sort of noise growled at the back of his throat. Norman rolled his hips right back, thrilling at the tight friction.

Carter's body gave a broken shudder. This... this wasn't based on... well, it was going too fast. He wasn't going to think about what any of it meant right now.

Carter had needs and it was all Norman's fucking fault.

Norman's hands went up to let his fingers run through Carter's short hair, then to pull him closer for a moment, challenging him through the kiss before he decided to change tactics. Norman pulled back from the kiss, panting excitedly, reaching his hand up to to grab Carter's wrist. He brought those gloved fingertips to his lips. He enjoyed the texture of the leather for a moment before moving on to use his teeth.

Fuck. _Fuck._ Carter panted softly as he just watched what Norman was doing with his hand. Even with all the sexy and erotic women he'd been with, they hadn't made him feel the way he was feeling right now.

Norman's mouth was... making a very good impression.

It was amazing.

He wanted to slide his fingers in.

When he knew Norman had a good bite on his glove he pulled.

Once the glove had slid off, Norman let it drop from his mouth to land on the floor.

Carter's other hand, still gloved, left the door some time ago and was moving up Norman's back. It found its way under Norman's shirt, and Carter briefly felt embarrassed as he realized he was moving his finger in place where a bra clasp should be.

God damn it.

The hand slid down Norman's spine straight to his tail bone.

Norman shivered at Carter's touch, his heartbeat spiking into his throat again. He took Carter's wrist again and let his mouth and teeth explore those now bare fingers. He was well aware he was mimicking his actions from back in the cab. The hard heat pushing against his hip proved Carter was aware of it, too.

Norman let out another soft noise and pushed aside Carter's hand so he could yank him close. He gave him a hard, quick kiss, then set to impatiently pulling at Carter's clothes.

Carter needed to fuck something. He knew he was delaying this process. He shrugged out of his coat and let it drop, openly letting Norman's hands help one of his own to undress. His other hand was on Norman's waist now, massaging at the hip bone. It scared him how much he wanted this right now. Don't pussy out.

But he couldn't.

Norman was the fucking expert at getting under his skin with absolute minimum effort and he did it again.

"Jayden."

Carter said it through clenched teeth. He pushed into Norman again, both of them thudding against the door. He was desperate, for several reasons. Carter let out a gasp as he could feel his skin exposed to the cold air of the apartment.

"Jayden, uh..." Carter tried again.

"Hm?" Norman made a questioning hum. He tilted his head and let the tip of his nose run along the edge of Carter's ear. He had a good idea what Carter was trying to say, but that wasn't going to stop him from making him say it.

"Well?" Norman asked, making sure to aim his breath at Carter's neck and rolling his hips slowly.

" _Fuck,_ " Carter breathed.

His head tilted back, letting Norman do what he wanted. He was turning into a pushover and it pissed him off but he couldn't stop Norman. He didn't even realize he was the one with his back against the door right now.

Fucking damn it.

"Let's just - get it over with." Carter winced saying those words.

He wasn't drunk enough for this. Or rather he wasn't sober enough. Fuck, he just wanted Norman to get him off already before he went insane. Except he didn't because…

He was sure stuck in a spot right now.

"Alright." Norman smiled against Carter's skin and pressed his hand flat against his chest. He let his fingers slide through the coarse hair there, then pushed him away, finally breaking the heat between them. But it was only temporary.

Norman gave Carter a look, then lead the way towards the bedroom, stripping out of his own clothes along the way. He was completely naked by the time he reached the bed, where he sat and leaned back on his elbows, honestly curious to see what Carter would do.

Where the fuck did Norman get balls like this?

Not that... he was... looking at them, literally... no.

"Jesus, fuckin'..."

If Carter had ANY IDEA that this was the man he fucking coddled a week ago… Carter made a strange face at that thought and he knew it. He pushed down his hesitance and followed Norman. He had only his pants and shoes left. He kept them on.

He slowed just before the bed.

Carter stood as close as he could get and stared straight at Norman. Then he leaned forward. His hands found Norman's wrists. He continued with his advance, staring straight into Norman's eyes as the distance between them closed.

He could smell the alcohol on Norman's breath. He wondered how much of Norman he was really talking to. Probably about as little as always.

Carter fucking hated this.

It was like he only ever wanted to punch Norman or hold him close. Why couldn't things be normal?

He pushed Norman down onto his back. He dragged Norman's wrists up to pin them level with Norman's head, keeping his own balance, although he lay flat on top of Norman now. His fingers naturally wove their way over Norman's palms until he could entwine them with Norman's fingers.

Carter closed his eyes and planted a kiss on Norman's lips. After a breathless moment passed, Carter could register his heart beating again, and he broke the kiss just barely for air before he kissed him again, this time grinding his hips slowly down against Norman.

Fuck it.

He cared about Norman.

And Norman suddenly felt his entire body flood with whole new feelings. Well, they weren't _exactly_ new, but like hell was he expecting them to take over in the middle of what was supposed to be…

What? Some friendly fuck? A pityfuck? A good-bye fuck?

This was exactly the type of thing alcohol and over-working and drugs were supposed to help him avoid, damn it. It was almost funny how all three of those things suffered when it came to Carter fucking Blake.

But they wouldn't have to suffer for much longer.

Norman's fingers suddenly twitched, then squeezed tightly around Carter's. He let his legs spread further apart so he could wrap them around Carter's hips and grind up against his clothing. His knuckles were turning white.

How the _hell_ was Carter supposed to let him go by morning?

Carter kept silent and worked every kiss he gave with every one Norman shared. He braced himself for a moment, and with a particularly strong thrust, he dragged Norman up the bed, placing them both completely on the mattress.

Carter tried to think up something to change tomorrow. On top of these scattered plans as it were. Ever since they got fucking playful at the bar.

Carter made sure to squeeze one of Norman's hands in return while he worked the other hand free. Just for a moment. Physical need was important, too. He quickly worked the last of his clothing open enough to free his erection and his hand immediately returned to seek out Norman's hand again.

So it wasn't like sleeping with a woman. It didn't matter. He felt like their bodies fit better than any of them.

Carter broke the kisses only when he couldn't get enough air. He tucked his face just under Norman's jaw, eyes still closed, his hot face feeling Norman's face. He panted, audibly, his hands clammy and flexing until finally he pushed a little farther against Norman's body. His breath caught in his throat as his stomach tightened and he came. He weakly thrust forward to ride the rest of his orgasm out, his mind drowning in the realization he was coming on Norman's naked skin, hot and slick between them both.

"...oh god." The words were barely there in the shuddering breath that fell over Norman's lips.

The feeling of Carter's come jetting hotly against his skin made his own muscles tense, spine arching and hips jerking as he came just after.

Norman fell back against the bed, flushed and sweating and panting and…

Oh god was he…

Norman suddenly wrenched one of his hands free to wipe it over his flushed cheek. When he confirmed that salty wet drop was definitely not sweat, he turned his head to the side and tried to, very unsuspiciously, bite one of his knuckles and stare dead ahead at the wall.

Because if he was going to cry, Carter wasn't going to fucking know about it.

He could only hold his breath for so long. And when he did breathe in it came sharp and staggered and sounded a whole fucking lot like a sob. But Norman just bit harder into his own skin and hoped Carter didn't notice.

Carter's breath was still ragged as it brushed over Norman's skin. Carter fumbled with his own feet a moment, finally kicking off his shoes so they fell to the floor. He realized with the rest of this frighteningly real situation that he wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

One of his hands still clutched to Norman's.

Carter moved his other hand between them. His face was still nuzzled against Norman's neck, refusing to even open his eyes right now. His hand swiped through the mess they created. It wasn't even that sick of a feeling to know the substance was mixed together as he tried to gather it all. He'd sacrifice the far side of the bedsheet and silently dried his hand. Carter fucking Blake, classy lover.

Lover. It felt like a fifty ton weight just dropped on his back. And what more, he felt like he had to hold that weight to prevent it from crushing Norman. He forced his hand under Norman's back, then his forearm, right up to the elbow, and he hugged Norman against him as he moved only slightly to the side to take most of his weight off of Norman.

Norman squeezed his eyes tighter and bit harder and fought and fought and fought. He finally pulled his hand away and saw the purple teeth-shaped bruise. And his eyes were still warm and stinging and wet and it had zero to do with the pain in his finger.

" _F-Fuck!_ "

It all finally caved in into one loud, emotional curse. Norman brought both of his hands, the one still holding Carter's, and covered his eyes.

That did freak Carter out a bit.

But he didn't let go.

Carter held onto Norman for a few moments. When the horrible reaction didn't stop, and god Carter wasn't even completely sure _why_ this was happening, he carefully untangled his hand from Norman's, but his touch never left. He ran his fingers as gently over Norman's hand as he could. Carter was looking at him now in the darkness. A few more strokes to try and calm him, and Carter pulled Norman's hand away from his face. He was only going to make his eyes worse like that.

"Jayden." It was the first thing Carter said in too long a while.

He could tell Norman didn't even want to look at him, but he'd had harder rejections before. He'd just hadn't had harder acceptances.

Carter's voice had a cauterizing effect on Norman's quiet sobs. He shut his mouth and forced his breathing to try to normalize. He kept his eyes cast as far over as he could because, even in just the low light filtering in through the blinds, he didn't want to see the way Carter might be looking at him.

And then he wanted, desperately, to look at Carter. To stare at him, really. To memorize him.

He didn't have much time left to do so.

Norman couldn't tell if the sick feeling that was settling in was from the crying, drug withdrawal, or hangover. None of the above, for once. He was lying to himself trying to say it was anything but the absolute dread he had for leaving.

Norman's eyes finally shifted back to Carter. His still slightly damp hands went to brush along Carter's jawline. "I really..."

The words hung a moment.

"This wasn't..."

Another pause.

Everything Norman wanted to say scared him.

Carter had been watching him the whole time, waiting. And he waited while Norman took his time to try and form his words.

He blinked.

Carter touched Norman's hand with his own, eventually lifting it away from his face to hold it with his own hand. He kept Norman's hand close to his cheek.

"Don't worry about it right now."

Carter's chest was hurting from all the pounding of his heart, but he was the most stable thing in Norman's world right now and he absolutely refused to deny him that.

"Worrying is mostly all I do, Blake." Norman laughed somewhat bitterly at his own joke. "Remember?"

But he tightened his hold on Carter's hand and then pulled the other man back down to lay with him. For all his panic and dread, he felt oddly peaceful in that moment. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. And when that didn't work he focused on Carter's breathing. And that relaxed him to sleep faster than any drug.


	10. Chapter 10

The clacking of keyboards. The murmur of telephone calls. The same old, familiar sounds filled the headquarters.

Neither of those sounds came from Lieutenant Carter Blake's desk.

Although nothing as exotic (as Perry put it) as the Origami Killer case was open, he still had a few cases to look into. When murder wasn't hot, he spent his time on the cold cases, hoping something new would strike him that would move the case ahead. He got real lucky with the Origami Killer. Or maybe it was just Norman's help.

He tried to tell himself he was only thinking that because Norman was gone.

He sighed every time he came back to that thought.

Carter looked over at Ash's desk. Ash wasn't there, most likely working on another interrogation. All the better. Carter didn't need that asshole mocking him, as much of a friend as he was. Ash had a real knack for teasing that Carter hadn't even noticed until he came into work late after his trip to the airport. He felt disgusting under the gaze of pity he could see behind Ash's eyes.

If only Ash knew the sorts of things Carter did that night after the bar. The things his hands did. The things his mouth did. The things is body did. The only thing that overrode the guilt and shame he was drowning in was the mental image of him strangling Ash out with the hot pink thong in the back of his car.

And that's when the sinking feeling _really_ came to visit.

The files on Carter's screen sat still, unchanged for months. His guesses were only ideas he fetched out of the blue with crazy what-if's. Norman seemed to only need one look on paper to identify everything about a person, right down to the private life. Even without the fancy glasses. He wondered if Norman ever tried that on him.

It made him uncomfortable.

Carter flexed a pen between his thumbs, threatening to snap it in half.

"Aw." Charlene smiled. "Distracted?"

Carter froze and looked at her. He forced a smile over his melancholy.

"Just a cold case," Carter motioned at his computer screen with his pen. He forced himself to go back to reading the same sentences he'd read a thousand times before.

"Miss Agent Jayden?" Charlene sounded amused, leaning her hip against the edge of Carter's desk. "He was pretty cute, if a little strange."

"Yeah," Carter squashed his laugh with a snort of disbelief, but not disagreement.

Charlene gave Carter a look.

Carter looked up at her.

"Not like that," he made quick cover.

Charlene pat Carter's shoulder, and her hand slid between his shoulder blades, massaging the muscles below his neck.

"Well, if you need anything..."

Charlene's hand slid away from Carter and she walked away.

Carter was at a complete standstill with his feelings. Charlene was just a secretary. He had Ash to run around and fetch him shit, he had Perry to drop memos on his desk, and he had a perfectly functional computer to organize his work mess. Charlene couldn't do any of those things for him. She couldn't even make him-

-like that-

Carter shot those thoughts down immediately, searching for something else on his desk to look at. He didn't need to keep thinking about that disturbingly passionate fling.

With Norman, that is.

Oh, god, what the fuck was wrong with him?

It had already been three days.

He saw his phone in its place in his desk drawer. Out of sight, safe from theft, within his arm's range so he wouldn't miss any calls. Or texts. Or whatever.

He genuinely wondered why Perry didn't call him out on his bullshit when he talked to him yesterday about getting a permanent criminal profiler to work with the homicide department.

"Already considered it," Carter muttered under his breath, recalling the words Perry had told him in regards to the idea.

Even at home, the quiet was crushing. Carter lingered in his kitchen a lot more now. Before he simply spent every waking hour at the office or at a bar, the rest of his time at home being spent asleep. It was ridiculous how he kept staring at the kitchen chair as if his mind would recreate the vision he saw there two weeks ago.

He almost wondered if that ARI thing could do that.

Carter dumped the rest of the contents of his mug down the sink drain. He hadn't needed to use sleeping aids since last year.

Carter leaned his elbows on the edge of the sink and slumped heavily forward, one hand sliding over the top of his head as he stared down the ugly steel drain. His only worry was that wherever the fuck Norman was right now, he wasn't doing something stupid. He wasn't letting his feelings, his wrongs, his mistakes take over and he wasn't collapsed in some shitty apartment surrounded by vials of fucking sin.

Carter shut the kitchen light off and went back to bed.

 

* * *

 

Norman was sipping from a beer that he didn't remember ordering. He was never one for bars, even ones like this that catered to his "type", but ever since he got back home a week ago he'd found himself in one almost every night. His work suffered for it but, since he already tended to overwork, his quality had only dropped to what others would call normal.

He ran a hand through his hair, which was already mussed from the five or six times he had done the same action in the last hour. He set down the bottle and reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. There was a new text. His heart thrilled for a moment only to sink when he saw it wasn't from who he expected. Not that he was expecting Carter to text him. Or call. Or want to acknowledge he even existed.

He couldn't, not after the fucking mess he left behind.

"Waiting for someone?" Came a voice and Norman glanced up.

A man he didn't know had slid up next to him and was rather rudely looking over his shoulder to his phone. He locked the screen and slid it back into his pocket.

"Not anymore." Norman replied with a sip of his beer.

"Good. I bought that for you, by the way." The man said with a nod to the bottle.

Norman glanced to him, letting his eyes wander down him a bit before going back to his eyes. He was cute, a little younger, short dark hair with a well-trimmed patch of hair on his chin. Not a perfect match, but attractive nonetheless. The guy might have told Norman his name, but it wasn't retained. Just like the others.

"Well, thanks. I appreciate the drink." Norman forced a smile that looked as real as any. He really had been practicing hiding things better, just like he said he would.

The younger man leaned in to let his lips touch Norman's ear. "Prove it."

A minute later Norman found himself being dragged out of a door and out into an alley. He let himself be pushed back against the cold brick wall opposite of the door. They kissed and the only reason that kiss registered in his swimming, drunk mind was the fact he could taste whatever fruit-flavored abomination of a drink was on what's-his-name's tongue.

He looked down to see the guy drop to his knees and practically tear open Norman's pants to get to his growing erection. That sugar-flavored tongue was pretty talented. Norman realized he still had his beer and took a large gulp out of it to finish it off as he let this nameless guy get him off in an alley.

Was this really his life now?

He tossed the bottle aside, the glass shattering loudly in the darkness as he let his hands twist in unfamiliar short hair that was way too easy to pretend belonged to someone else.

After he came, his eyes opened again and he could see the what's-his-name wiping his mouth with one hand and holding a very familiar blue vial in the other. He must have dug it out of Norman's pocket.

"Looks like you're down for all kinds of fun, hm?"

Norman didn't reply as he dragged the younger man up from the ground and crushed their mouths together.

This stopped being fun a very long time ago.


	11. Chapter 11

Carter leaned as far back in his swivel chair as it would allow, his feet propped up on his desk, papers everywhere. He threw the paper plane from his hand with expertise a grown man shouldn't have. It sailed to the other end of the office, where Ash had rolled his own chair over to. Ash caught it easily. Another perfect throw and a perfect catch.

There were papers all over the office. The department was supposed to be recycling these papers, getting rid of old files and digitalizing other important ones that didn't require a physical copy anymore. It left surprisingly little for the actual officers to do.

Ash sent the paper plane in a return throw. It sailed quickly with its wobble and sway and nailed Perry right in the temple. Ash quickly rolled behind one of the short cubicle panels to hide.

Perry was headed for Carter's desk, and he pressed the now crumpled paper plane against Carter's chest. He then dropped a few stapled papers onto his desk.

"If you wanna stop being childish and if Ash wants his beatings minimized, I'd like you to take a look at this."

Carter couldn't help but smirk just a little as he swung his feet down to the floor and rolled back up to his desk.

"Okay, so what's this?" Carter picked up the papers.

"You could read before asking," Perry started, "but it's a recommendations sheet. A sort of quality verification petition. Although it's not my thing, I do agree with your point from the other day about a static FBI representative."

Carter's mind instantly buzzed from the flutter that rose violently up from somewhere deep inside of him.

"So," Perry continued, unaware of Ash slowly rolling his chair up behind him as if he were in a stealth video game, "I figured I would go through the effort to pick out our agent. It can be done pretty easily, I think."

"Was it the necktie skills?" Carter snorted.

He didn't have to play pretend in front of Perry. It was obvious who he meant.

"Better than you," Perry nodded.

"Well fuck it's not like I have to tie that shit in reverse on a daily basis and-" _besides, I'm shorter than you so it's hard to see around_. "Okay whatever."

Perry swung out with his arm swift as lightning and backhanded Ash hard in the bicep.

"Ow!" Ash screamed, grabbing at his stinging arm.

"I figured you'd want your name on the list first," Perry smiled.

"With all due respect, sir, you sure know how to be an asshole." Carter scribbled his signature on the first line provided. "Better hope I don't kill him."

"It would give the department something to do if you did," Perry joked far too easily about working in a homicide division. "I don't see how this could turn out badly at all. And he put up with us for an entire year for just one case, so if we keep him, he'll get the work you should be getting done and I don't have to pay for it."

"Thanks."

"Ash, want to sign it?"

"No, I'm crippled."

"Two names will do then," Perry didn't show an ounce of concern. "Hand it over, Blake, I'll fax it right away. And hopefully we'll get the news soon."

Carter handed the papers back to Perry immediately.

"You know," Ash began slowly once Perry was out of earshot. "Agent Jayden lives only three hours away."

"What are you fucking getting at, Ash."

"Defensive," Ash chuckled and rolled back over to his desk.

 

* * *

 

In the three days since he had gotten it, the paper had become wrinkled with folds and there was a tear at the side from the twelfth or so time when Norman reopened it a little too fast. He stared at it until the words were imprinted in his mind. His fingers traced the first signature so much he could probably forge it better than its owner.

Carter.

Norman's pulse thrummed.

At first it took all he had not to immediately say yes, for appearances sake. But then, a few hours later, he had actually began to dwell on it, and it was too easy to tell his superiors he would "think about it".

Why was Carter of all people okay with inviting him back?

Norman set the paper back down on his dining table. His hands were starting to shake. He looked at his phone and had his hourly thought of calling that stupid bastard and screaming at him or confessing to him or even just staying quiet just to hear his voice. He ignored it, again, in favor of standing up and walking into his bathroom with a blue vial tucked in his palm.

He still wasn't any closer to making up his mind.

 

* * *

 

The phone on Carter's desk rang. He answered it.

"Lieutenant Carter Blake."

Carter balanced the folded triangle of paper with one finger against the desk surface while he listened to the voice on the other end of the phone.

"I'll be there." Carter hung up the phone. He flicked the paper away from him with an audible snap, and it spun over to Ash's desk. "Game point."

"How do you figure that?" Ash protested. "I am not _that_ bad at football scores."

"Because I got a dead body to look at and some asshole to arrest." Carter stood up and gathered his things.

"Turning yourself in?"

"Funny," Carter shrugged on his coat. "But speakin' of assholes, you ever wonder about that transfer thing Perry had me sign?"

"Nope."

Ash was hiding a smirk though. Carter rolled his eyes.

"He probably said no," Ash added.

"Forget I asked."

Carter got in his car and drove out to the scene of the crime: a convenience store robbery that ended poorly. When he arrived, police officers were still warding off the onlookers and blocking the store from the public. He beat the coroner here, and the police car with an abnormal number of officers around it probably held the suspect. Easy case. Carter stalked onto the scene, briefly flashing his badge even though he was well known by these men.

Carter's initial look at the scene drew fast conclusions. Probably another druggie that wanted cash, panicked, never fired a gun before, and never killed before, either. Too bad.

He'd already spent an hour overseeing the investigation, talking to one person after the next as more information was uncovered. The doors had to be left open for their amount of traffic, and the cold was starting to get to Carter. Whenever he went outside the building, he could have sworn he saw stray snowflakes falling. It felt too early for that, but the weather was being particularly unforgiving this year as it were.

Carter took a break from the scene and sat in his car, resting his legs and warming himself up a little.

Carter learned long ago it was best for him to act on impulse instead of thinking first. He took out his cell phone and called his most stagnant speed dial number.

 

* * *

 

Norman's nose was bleeding. It happened every now and then; it's what you got for shoving drugs up your nose. Recently it had begun to happen even more than usual. At least once a day.

He really should have been more worried about that.

Norman gave up on using toilet paper and resorted to yanking a towel off the rack and using that instead to soak it up. He was looking in the mirror, towel bunched up against his face, and staring with heavily dilated pupils into the mirror. There were now red and neon blue stains on his shirt.

His cell phone shrilled to life. He sighed and grabbed it out of his pocket, not bothering to check the ID as he answered, still too busy frowning at his reflection.

"This is Norman." He said after pulling the towel away from his mouth.

"Lieutenant Carter Blake," Carter actually grinned as he kept it professional-like, "how you doin'?"

Carter's shoulders were tense, he noticed, as he leaned back in the driver's seat.

Norman's heart hit the floor. His phone almost followed suit, but he managed to catch it as it slipped. Shit, he should have looked at the caller ID after all. Would he really ignore the call if he had?

"Oh. Hi." Norman tried to pretend his voice didn't lose a little volume. "I'm..."

A quick glance back to the mirror before he left and shut off the light. He didn't know.

"I don't know." He answered truthfully for once, checking for more blood and dumping the towel in is laundry basket once he saw it was done. "Why are you calling me?"

Well don't be a prick about it.

What's wrong with calling you?

Maybe I just wanted to hear your-

"Why not?" Carter physically shrugged as he said it. He rested a hand on his steering wheel and looked around outside. Him being on the phone certainly wasn't suspicious, but he wasn't sure how this call would turn out, either.

Truth be told, he didn't know why he was calling. He didn't think about it before he placed the call and he wasn't going to think about it now.

"Cop-out." Norman sighed as he tugged at the buttons of his shirt. He wasn't going to walk around covered in stains. Plus he was starting to feel warm, which was odd because it had been lightly snowing all day. "You've had all this time to call me before."

"Well so did you," Carter countered all too easily.

Carter was used to keeping his conversations brief, but especially on the phone.

"Did you say no?"

If Norman couldn't figure out what he meant then all the more reason to keep him on the line, at least.

"No. But I didn't say yes either." Norman dropped his shirt in the laundry then walked to his couch and sat down. "I haven't decided yet."

Norman sighed and pulled back the curtain to watch the snow fall into the river across the street.

"Why did you sign off for me to come back?" Norman asked..

"I was asked if I would, so I did."

"You could have said no. Of everyone in that office you have the most reasons to say no."

"I... also have the most reasons to say yes."

Norman's pulse fell again, like a dead weight. He stayed quiet for a long time, those last words keeping him in a stranglehold.

"It's a lot of effort, you know, for something that might not even work out." Norman finally spoke.

He wasn't even sure of the context of his own words.

Carter was leaning forward to get a good look at the crime scene from his car. The fuck was Tony doing? Smoking on the job was allowed (by him and probably not the law) but...

"Because I love you."

Carter ended the call before that could go _anywhere_ else.

Now it was back to yelling at the guys on the crime scene.

 

* * *

 

The next day Norman found himself once again sitting at his desk, the request fax in his hands, and this time he was replaying the previous night's conversation in his head. Even if Carter hadn't meant what he said or even if it was a joke... Would he joke about something like that?

Did Norman feel the same way? He still had so many questions and doubts and worries and…

And they didn't seem so significant anymore.

He wasn't even feeling sick.

He stood up, paper in hand, to go deliver his decision to his boss.

He was going back.


	12. Chapter 12

Another day at the office, another day at the desk. Even though his recent homicide case was easy to wrap up, Carter still had to manage the evidence and other shit to send off to court. His day was almost over. He tidied up his desk since it had become a mess today, and started to gather up his things.

Ash wandered on by Carter's desk, sipping coffee that, again, was not from the office's supply.

"You have been working hard lately," Ash commented.

"Yeah..." Carter sounded suspicious. "I always work hard, asshole."

"Sure you are not just, you know," Ash searched for the words. "Trying to prove something?"

"Like what? That I can't do this without a fuckin' federal profiler biting at my ass?"

Carter was going to ignore him now. He wanted to go home.

Ash snickered.

"...You know something I don't know, don't you," Carter paused.

"What?" Ash blinked. "No. Of course not."

"Well okay."

Carter was all set to go home and nudged his way around Ash. He looked at Charlene's desk, empty seeing as how it was after her steady hours. A habit he did not know he had, Carter checked his phone for any sort of missed messages on his way out of the office.

 

* * *

 

Norman had sent a text about fifteen minutes earlier saying "Was hoping for less snow." as he sat in his car in the parking lot outside the precinct. He'd managed to keep his decision quiet until now. It would still be awhile before everything was finalized and he could transfer, but like hell was he waiting _that long_ to say anything.

He drove three hours from DC to spring this little surprise, and he was starting to grow anxious. Of all the days for Carter to actually work late. The heater was cranked and he watched the front door like a hawk. It vaguely reminded him of working cases with Carter and keeping vigil for suspects.

His heart leaped into his throat once he saw Carter step out those doors. He nervously reached for the door handle, fumbled a moment because he wasn't paying attention, and finally got it open and stepped outside.

Carter was still looking down at his phone. He read the text message a few times over already. Hell, he didn't even know snow was coming. Or... already here, as it were. He stopped for a moment as he saw the light snow cover on the pavement. It was minimal, but still an early season surprise.

Then again it was almost the end of the year. Why was he surprised?

Fuck it, he didn't care. He tucked away his phone because he'd feel ridiculous looking at a weather app to check on the weather in fucking Washington. He again forgot to reply to the text message.

Carter slowed to a stop as he neared his car. He hadn't really been paying attention to anything on his way out here, but a sports car like that parked beside a police vehicle (even when unmarked), in this particular parking lot, was certainly-

"... _Norman?_ " Carter looked in disbelief. His eyes had to be lying to him.

It was him. It was fucking him standing beside this... this...

"You drive a fucking _Jaguar?!_ " Carter held a hand out to the front of the car, now in three times the disbelief.

Carter was a man with his priorities set straight.

"Missed you, too." Norman said with a laugh and shoved his cold hands into his coat pockets. He couldn't believe he remembered to bring his coat and scarf but left his gloves back at the hotel. He was a little preoccupied at the time. "Yeah, I drive this... don't expect me to know anything about it though. I bought it because it's pretty, and the guy who sold it to me was prettier."

Norman smiled and leaned against the car, happy to just look at Carter again.

By the time that registered in Carter's mind it was already too late to hide his facial reaction to it. Right. Norman was... and Carter... wasn't.

Previously.

He didn't think.

"Right, well, uh," his eyes roamed up and down Norman.

Carter certainly had to face those final words he spoke to him on the phone now.

"I honestly did not think you would come back."

Carter moved over to Norman's car instead. He stood in front of Norman. A few ideas ran through his head, but the idea of standing in a wide open public place and beside a screaming attention getter...

"Wanna go somewhere?"

That wast fast.

At least he tried not to make it sound like what it probably did sound like.

"Well, I won't be officially for another few weeks, but I thought I'd come up for the weekend. You know, catch up and, yeah, go places." Norman smiled and stepped away from the door. He stepped closer to Carter, letting a hand reach out and run along Carter's arm.

Carter would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy that.

"Let's go. Unless you wanna take your car?" Norman turned to get in the driver's seat.

"She's fast but that's all she's got goin' for her," Carter grinned and invited himself around to the other side of Norman's car with hurried steps. Carter gave his own car a pat on the roof. "Sorry, girl."

To be polite, Carter made sure his shoes were as clean as he could get them before swinging into the car. He enjoyed the creak of the material as he moved. Now to touch things that weren't his.

"I'm... glad," Carter offered awkwardly to Norman as he felt for every lever and switch on the seat he could find. "That you made up your mind like this."

After he felt the seat was perfect for him, Carter settled in.

Nice window tint.

"Hey, Jayden."

Carter leaned on the center console and grabbed Norman's chin in his hand.

He leaned closer and kissed Norman on the lips, light but deliberate.

Norman smiled and leaned further into the kiss, savoring the warm pressure. He didn't break the kiss until after he reached to the dash and pressed the engine start button. He pulled back as the engine roared to life, laughing lightly. "So, where do you wanna go?"

Carter couldn't resist. He reached out and slowly stroked the dashboard of the car. He didn't even care right now that Norman clearly made more money than him.

"Well," Carter began, "we can celebrate your transfer. I assume you had that in mind."

Carter glanced at Norman. It was good to look at him again.

"I mean," he laughed slightly. "You sure didn't invite anyone else."

"My types of celebration don't need witnesses." Norman smirked, then finally pulled out of the precinct parking lot. "Then again, I hear the bar at my hotel is pretty good."

He wasn't so good at being subtle when his heart was pounding just from finally having Carter sitting next to him. His speed was increasing and he hardly noticed, nor did he care.

"Or we could drive around a bit. Take us outside of town and really show off?" He bit his bottom lip as he quietly wondered if he could get Carter off with his driving.

He bit even harder as he just thought about getting Carter off. But he didn't want to be too expectant or pushy about this. After all, Carter was still _technically straight_.

"Don't drink and drive, Norm," Carter teased, still looking at every feature of the car he could from his spot. "Drive us around. The engine sounds just _sexy_. Then we can get smashed and not wreck a thing!"

"Sexy, huh?" Norman grinned wickedly, still watching the road as he revved the engine a bit more. He decided to head for the freeway, but didn't aim to get on it. There was a stretch of rural road that connected the city to the more outstretched townships that he remembered from a year or so of bored exploring. It was dark and barely populated and perfect. "Feel free to play with whatever you want. I sure as hell don't know what a lot of this stuff does. I just had the guy show me how to work the radio and that was it."

"That so?" Carter was already outright moving things that were almost completely hidden before. "Huh. Guess I'll have fun teaching you about all the little tricks I find."

The farther they went, mostly in quiet company.

"Feels real nice."

Carter meant the car ride. But after he said it, he slipped his hand over to Norman. His palm rested on Norman's thigh, and he stroked that in a very similar manner as he did the car at the beginning of their trip. Up. And down.

A hot tingle shot through Norman's abdomen. He sucked on his bottom lip again and let his legs fall open a bit. Daring.

"Yeah, it does."

Carter could feel the movement easily. He let his hand wander to the inside of Norman's thigh, pressing just a little bit firmer as he did so. Once. Carter then pulled away and kept his hands to himself.

"Tease." Norman said with a smirk. "I'll remember that later, Blake."

"I know you love to frustrate me."

Norman threw the car into a turn without warning, maybe a little too fast for icy weather because the wheels screeched, but he kept perfect control. They were heading back towards the city before he acted on his current thoughts involving Carter and him in the passenger seat.

Whoa, _shit_ , it was only natural instinct to hang on when Norman took a turn like that, and if he didn't think they'd both die, looking back, he'd have flung himself right on top of Norman.

Well that got his heart going if it wasn't already aflutter.

"Jesus, Norman," Carter finally spoke after the lovely thrum of the engine steadied again. "You sure that guy didn't teach you anything else?"

Some cop he was, letting Norman speed well over the limit and ignoring the whole reckless endangerment thing going on right now.

"Nothing I didn't already know."

Norman left it at that. He had them back in the city much faster than they had left. It was a little disappointing to have to slow back to almost the legal limit. "I think it's time to get smashed."

Carter made a pleased hum of agreement.

"Yeah I think it is..."

Norman guided the car into the more private part of the hotel parking lot that he had specially paid extra to reserve a spot in. There was a reason he had flown from DC before, he wasn't going to risk his car in the lot of that shitty apartment complex the FBI had stuck him in. This hotel was nice, one of the nicest in the city, and they were expensive enough to live up to that reputation. Not that he cared so much about the cost, so long as they took care of the damn car.

After he and Carter got out of the car, he pinged the lock with the remote then headed for the door.

"Jesus fucking Christ, did you really have to buy the most expensive hotel room in the city?" Carter looked around the lot as he got out of the car.

Norman rolled his eyes. It was hardly the most expensive; he knew because he'd done his research. But it did have a nice view. He was a sucker for aesthetics.

Carter remembered Norman's piece of trash rental car and the barely healthy apartment he stayed in while here for the Origami Killer case. Yet Norman was capable of affording this. Then there was the drug habit. Those vials were by no means cheap. Norman wasn't just some druggie barely scraping by; he was a clever and rich addict.

The _fucking Jaguar_ he was going to let by, but suddenly a very different picture was being painted and Carter had absolutely no idea.

Carter suddenly felt very, very _guilty_.

"Jayden. Jayden, wait."

Norman was musing to himself, wondering if Carter had ever been inside this hotel in all the time he had lived here, when he heard his name being called. He stopped a few feet in front of the door and turned back around to give Carter a curious look.

"Hm? You okay?" He asked and shoved his cold hands into his coat pockets.

Carter caught up to Norman when he was sure he had his attention.

"Are you sure about this?" Carter tried his best to express his sincerity. _You can't... do all this for_ me. Carter laughed at his own unvoiced thoughts. "I mean the pay cut's gotta be ridiculous. Shit, it would probably be better when you're only a few hours..."

Carter was regretting his words fast. He shook his head.

"Okay. _Please_ forget I even started to say that. It's just, here I thought I was only going to use your wallet for booze and rubbers."

Carter reached to open the door for the both of them, but stopped.

"I'm not used to being outclassed, you know," he added.

A grin broke across Norman's lips and he had to fight really hard to keep it from turning into a laugh as he stepped through the door and into the large, elaborate foyer of the hotel.

"Carter, if I felt like I was being used you'd know. I never would have left Washington. And I sure as hell wouldn't have let you ride in my dead sexy car."

His amused smile softened to something more gentle as he spoke. He had taken his hands out of his pockets and was now playing with his own fingers nervously. He didn't even know he was doing it until he happened to look down.

"The pay cut won't be too bad. You think I made all this on an FBI salary? I just got lucky with some investments I made in college." He let out a small laugh, leading the way to the hotel's bar. "But even if it was different, I still wouldn't change my mind."

"As much as I'd love to drink this bar dry," and Carter loved being presented with that particular challenge at his usual sports bar, "maybe we could go for something more... to go."

Carter chanced a look at Norman. Carter was never nervous with his advances, and yet every time he made the attempt on Norman, every doubt in the world crept up on him. Maybe he just went for easy women all this time. Maybe he was terrified getting drunk would end up like... last time. Maybe he just wanted Norman out of his clothes already, he really didn't know.

Norman paused before the doorway to the bar. He'd assumed alcohol would have to be involved in getting a guy like Carter to want to go beyond anything like kissing. Again. The suggestion that the other really was okay with this while sober sent a surprised thrill through him. After all, when was the last time Norman himself had done _anything_ truly sober?

Norman reached out to give Carter's sleeve a small tug, straightening a wrinkle he saw, then another tug higher to straighten out the fabric just under his collar. It was barely noticeable to begin with, and he wasn't _that_ tidy, but Norman's fingers itched to touch Carter and this was the closest he figured he could get without looking too conspicuous.

He let his hands fall away and shoved them back into his pockets. It was still weird to not feel a vial there. He'd taken to leaving his drugs at home, or for this weekend in his suitcase, as he had been cutting back to using only once a day to get over that first waking sickness. It was funny how quitting had been such a huge roadblock before and now he was almost excited at the thought of being clean by the time he moved.

Love really did make people do strange things.

Norman had lead the way to the elevators but barely noticed until the door opened with a soft bell. He stepped inside, pressed the button for his floor, and once the doors slid shut he grabbed Carter and kissed him.

He was going to play that way, huh?

Carter's arms wrapped around Norman's body and he pushed Norman roughly against the elevator wall. He immediately deepened that kiss. Carter could be a desperate romantic when he wanted to, even if he never thought he'd get this hot for another man.

Norman made a soft, happy noise and eagerly accepted the kiss. He let his hands slide up Carter's chest and up the back of his neck and into his hair. His hands weren't feeling so cold anymore.

He almost didn't notice the elevator was slowing to his floor. The moment the door opened he was pulling Carter by the sleeve again. He let go only as they neared the door to his room and only because he had to get the keycard out of his wallet.

"Weeeeeell now," Carter burst into the hotel room behind Norman, walking around him (although both of his hands touched and then wandered away from Norman's waist as he passed). "This sure is a step above the last place I saw  you livin' in, huh?"

Carter was hot, bothered, eager to pin Norman to the next surface and make him crumble and melt under his dominance... but first he was going to make Norman want it as much as him.

"Just a little." Norman replied with a laugh as he unwrapped and pulled off his scarf and laid it over the chair in the corner. "If I booked this as a business trip the FBI would have put me in a storage shed with a sleeping bag."

He started to unbutton his coat because _god_ was he feeling hot and tingly and just from that elevator ride alone.

"What a shame," Carter slid out of his coat. "You'd think they'd treat their little star profiler better than that."

Carter walked back closer to Norman, but stayed out of reach. He held eye contact as he tossed his coat onto the same chair as Norman's scarf. He left his gloves on. He had a little feeling Norman liked them, or at least liked taking them off.

"Coulda offered you my place, you know," Carter played with his gloves, flexing his hands as he pulled the leather tighter down his wrist. "But I get it. No room service, delivering discreet bottles of wine, no letting the maids gossip about that cute rich guy and his 'friend'..."

Norman eyed Carter for a moment. He certainly had changed his demeanor in the time from the lobby up to the room. That little shift in body language, the inflexion in his voice… Norman smirked. If Carter wanted to get brave, Norman was going to test just _how brave_.

He laid his coat over Carter's then stepped closer, taking one of those gloved wrists in his hand. "Then let's give them a real reason to gossip."

He brushed a light, breathy kiss over those gloved fingertips, eyes still locking with Carter's.

"Still wanna find out if you can make me scream?" Carter wasn't going to let Norman have his hand that easily. Strong fingers resisted the charm of Norman's lips so that he could stroke the bottom lip, his chin, and then hold Norman's jaw. "I wonder the same about you. Bet you've got a nice set of vocal chords in there."

His fingers found their way back to Norman's lips. His other hand set on Norman's shoulder, stroking lightly along his collarbone to his neck. Carter's fingers slid up the side of Norman's neck while his thumb pressed into the dip below Norman's throat, pushing as it stroked up his throat, his hand squeezing lightly around Norman's neck, teasing the idea that he could choke those hot breaths out of him at any moment.

Norman shivered as the leather glided over his throat. His adam's apple bobbed. Having Carter's hand at his throat was undeniably hot. No wonder this was such a useful interrogation tactic. Norman let out a groan. He trailed a hand down Carter's abdomen then turned it to head further down, increasing pressure as he felt along Carter's hip through his clothes.

"You seem to really wanna get acquainted with my throat, Lieutenant Blake."

"Just curious as to how deep into it I can go," Carter smirked.

He liked feeling Norman's hands on his body like that, but he liked hearing Norman react to his hands more.

Carter moved in to kiss hard and wet on the vulnerable side of Norman's neck, under his jaw, his hand still holding firm grasp on Norman's neck as well.

"Fuck." Norman shuddered. His skin prickled with heat that made his face flush and his heart rattle in his chest. Wasn't he supposed to be the one with more skill at seducing men?

His fingers found Carter's hair, then one hand slipped forward, sliding along Carter's thrumming carotid. Eventually both hands were at his collarbone and Norman gave him a shove in the direction of the bed. Norman was right after him, panting, pushing him to sit on the edge of the plush mattress and climbing into Carter's lap. He bent down and kissed Carter hard and deep.

Carter gave an amused groan that turned into a laugh, a low breathy sound. His hands found their way down Norman's body, rolled at Norman's hip bones _god_ he wanted to tear those pants right off of him, and to Norman's backside. He got a good, firm grip on Norman's ass, pulling him closer onto his lap, encouraging him to grind hard against him. If not for the gloves and other clothing, Carter was sure his nails would have dug in.

Norman's teeth pulled gently at Carter's bottom lip as he separated the kiss. He was panting against Carter's mouth, sharing his breath as he rocked his hips forward and down. Then back and repeat. He caught those lips again, adding another groan and yanking at Carter's tie. He didn't even bother untying it fully, preferring to let it dangle loosely around Carter's neck as he worked the first few buttons of his shirt. Once those had popped open, Norman bent down further to kiss and bite at Carter's newly exposed neck.

Carter leaned his head back while Norman went for his neck, his panting hot breath audible. He gave in and fell to his back with a slight bounce, making sure Norman kept his hips moving against his on the way down.

He remembered the first time he got this physically close with Norman their positions were almost perfectly reversed.

"Son of a _bitch_ ," Carter groaned, arching his own hips up every time Norman decided to thrust down onto him. His hands groped at the back of Norman's thighs, pulling him closer, his brain running wild with the ideas of where this was going. "Which ride you like more, huh? Me or the car?"

Carter didn't even wait for the answer before one greedy hand started to undo his belt.

"I'm not sure yet." Norman panted, smiling so broadly his teeth brushed against Carter's skin.

Norman sat up, still straddling Carter's hips. He looked down with a lustful gaze glassing his eyes, fingers going up to work open his own shirt. His hips still rocked, even slower and more pronounced, as he stripped out of his shirt.

"Better give me one _hell_ of a test drive, Blake." He smirked and pulled his undershirt up over his head and tossed it over his shoulder.

Oh fuck that was nice. And Carter watched Norman with a perfect intensity.

"Gave me a challenge, huh?" Carter whipped his belt off and threw it to the floor the moment Norman tossed his shirt. "Take it all off."

Carter wriggled beneath Norman a moment, reaching into his back pants pocket where his wallet still remained. One hand remained gripping to Norman's knee while the other hand tossed the wallet beside him, flipped open, on the bed. It felt almost ironic that he had to flip over his police badge to fish out the small square package.

His heart _pounded_ as he tore the square open with his teeth. A thrill shot through him as he wondered for a moment, seriously, on which one of them it would go. Carter didn't even have any doubts until he came to this embarrassingly foreign crossroads.

He let the packet dangle at his teeth, hanging on by a small corner.

Norman couldn't help an amused smirk as he saw that flicker of doubt cross Carter's expression. That condom was probably put into Carter's wallet for a far different circumstance, but it would still be quite useful. He gave a soft chuckle and carefully taking the opened packet into his own hand. "Cute."

Norman slipped off the bed and briefly headed towards the room's closet. He returned from digging through his things with a couple more _supplies_ that he was certain Carter hadn't thought of with his straight-guy brain.

Norman tossed the items on the bed then finally set to stripping off the rest of his clothes, standing just out of touching distance.

Good, at least Carter's embarrassment was minimized when Norman brought out the rest. He wouldn't have to say what he wanted or, worse, _ask_. He stared at Norman. His tongue slipped out to graze over his lip as he waited in lightheaded anticipation.

"Well, get back over here..." Carter tried not to make it sound like a beg. Forty-something and not being experienced in something quite like this was bad enough.

Norman climbed back onto the bed and crawled over to Carter. He let one hand slide up to rub along Carter's jaw and leaned in to give him a long, deep kiss. The hand slipped down, fingers curling to drag his blunt nails through the hair on Carter's chest before leaving to cross down and help remove what was left of Carter's clothing. His heart skipped every time he let his hand slip down to tease Carter's erection, which made his kisses grow faster and more desperate.

Carter let it be known with the sounds deep in his throat that he liked it every time Norman reminded him how serious this had become.

Both of them naked now, Carter took control and grabbed Norman around the middle, softly tossing him onto the bed on his back, knocking the fancy decorative pillows aside. Carter invited himself on top, a similar prowl to the type he had when pacing, sneaking the items Norman had brought out up beside them.

Carter was honestly worried about what he was going to do. But he couldn't back out now. He said too much, he did too much, and even if he was tempted to turn into a coward now, he couldn't. For Norman's sake.

"How's about you teach me those things you promised," Carter spoke into Norman's ear, one hand gripping to Norman's thigh and moving his leg where he wished.

He could have Norman talk dirty to him _and_ keep things going right!

With little time, Carter had been set to thrusting into Norman, breathing on Norman's neck and below his ear until he was brave enough to look Norman in the face while he did it.

Norman's nails were making dull white imprints where they dug into Carter's arms. He was panting out appreciative noises, sometimes a faint curse, long legs wrapped tight around Carter's waist. Catching Carter's gaze made another hot wave roll up his skin. His hands flew up to twist in the pillow behind his head and his neck arched. His glistening throat bobbed with every pant.

Watching Norman right now was so completely fucking out of this world for Carter.

Carter had never even considered that this would be all that enjoyable for either of them, just another quick action of intercourse to kill the lust, but Norman was so fucking amazing writhing under him like that, so much _better_ somehow than all the others he'd ever had sex with…

Norman rolled his hips upward _just so_ and Carter's thrusts hit _there_ and _Norman lost it_. He quickly turned his head and caught a bit of the pillow between his teeth to muffle the embarrassing scream he made as he came.

Carter couldn't look away. He couldn't stop. Every little thing he did made Norman react in ways he never wanted to forget, any doubts or guilt he had were fucking _gone_ at the sight, and being left to explore these actions all on his own these last few minutes sent frantic heat everywhere inside of him, and when he heard what was clearly Norman's _peak_ …

"Fuck, _Jayden_ ," Carter cursed, unable to resist the shudder as he felt Norman tighten beneath him, and Carter followed immediately in suit. His hips kept pushing, even as he felt that ecstasy escape him in a bliss he couldn't wrap his mind around.

Carter was desperate to get his claim on Norman completely for himself; he bit the lobe of Norman's ear. Nothing too painful, he hoped, but he panted heavily as he gave it a tug, a possessive focus that surprised even him.

Norman finally let the saliva-soaked material slip from between his teeth. The room was spinning and Carter's mouth was making his post-climax brain even more hazy. He decided to close his eyes and just enjoy the comedown.

Carter didn't exit Norman yet, seeking instead to bite at Norman's jaw next, turning it into a kiss. His mouth kept going. He suckled lightly on Norman's throat, letting his tongue roam over the bobbing of that Adam's apple. He lowered to Norman's chest now, a safe spot to leave just the faintest mark on Norman's skin near his shoulder.

"Ah!" Norman gave a sharp gasp at the feeling of teeth and tongue and the faint sting of Carter leaving his mark.

Every inch of skin felt so hyper aware. He bit his bottom lip and smiled, then let out a soft content sort of laugh. His fingers ran through Carter's sweat dampened hair. This was a much better outcome than the last time they tried this.

Carter eased himself away and let himself remain hovered over Norman for a moment longer, just looking at him. If this was the way it was supposed to be, the way it was supposed to work out... he was certainly more than okay with it.

Carter knocked the rest of the decorative pillows that hadn't already fallen off the bed. He stayed with his body against Norman as he made quick cleanup of their filthy actions, and grabbed the far edge of the bed's top cover. He rolled swiftly with it, catching himself and Norman into a burrito roll, wrapping his arms around Norman as he still tried to recover from whatever the hell just _happened_ between them.

"Like the test drive?" Carter couldn't resist as he lay in their tight wrapping on his back with Norman on top of him. He wasn't going to let Norman escape for _anything_ without some very clear... reassurance.

"Hm." Norman chuckled a little and stayed quiet for a moment, as if he really were putting some thought into it. "You're definitely a very persuasive salesman."

"The car is still better, isn't she? Well, can't say I blame you." Carter's arms tightened around Norman. "Guess I'll think of some underhanded way to get my advantage later."

"That implies you actually have other methods of getting what you want." Norman teased sleepily, gladly using Carter's chest as a pillow, even if that meant his toes were almost hanging off the edge of the bed.

Carter just gave a quick snort of a laugh at that.


	13. Chapter 13

Funny how their night ended without rowdy parties or even any alcohol.

But it was the weekend and Carter had finished his office work. So when the morning rolled by, he had no reason to get up at an early hour, and he was still asleep at a hotel, ignoring his phone, if it had even rung at all.

Their positions had changed overnight. Carter currently wound up under several more sheets, sprawled to take over most of the bed space and sleeping deeply. He snored, but it was a sound buried deep beyond the nose, his face buried in a pillow to further muffle it. It was almost a wonder how he didn't suffocate like that.

Norman had been awake for at least thirty minutes, but he hadn't moved, preferring to quietly watch Carter sleep. He was running his thumb along his own lip, looking just as thoughtful as he was. He could get used to this feeling. Trusting someone. Having someone care about him. Loving someone who really loved him back.

At least he hoped.

There was a soft rustling noise near the door and he popped his head up to look, but there was just the sound of rustling again, then footsteps walking off down the hall. Norman was confused for a moment, then he realized what it probably was. Paper delivery, right. He'd accepted the offer when he checked in yesterday without really paying attention. He had something else on his mind at the time.

He looked back down at Carter with a smile, leaned forward to press a very soft, barely-there kiss to his temple, then finally slipped out of the bed.

Norman paused on his way to the door to peek through the drawn heavy curtain that had been trying to keep the sunlight out. It was now mid-morning and the riverfront out below was shimmering with freezing waves and some sheets of ice floated along. It was a sunny but cold day, and he would be more than happy to spend it locked in the hotel room. Preferably with Carter. _Exclusively_ with Carter.

Norman was still naked, so he made a detour to the closet to at least grab underwear. The same compartment in his suitcase that held the undergarments also held his vials, and when he tugged out the garment one of them tumbled out with it. His pulse thudded heavily for a moment when he picked it up.

He hadn't been feeling sick at all that morning, until this moment when the drug was sitting in his palm, reminding him cruelly that he was _disastrously_ flawed. A useless junkie. His stomach twisted a little and his skin tingled. It was like the drug had invisible barbs digging into his skin as punishment just for looking. He chewed his bottom lip, glanced over his shoulder at Carter's sleeping body, took a deep breath, and promptly shoved the vial back into his bag and drew the zipper tight. He shoved it as far back into the closet as he could and quietly closed the door.

After safely covering himself, Norman retrieved the newspaper from where it hung on the door and quickly padded back to the bed. Securely under the covers, he pulled open the paper, disregarding all other sections in favor of the Rental Homes/Apartments section of the classifieds.

Carter stirred, briefly. To dramatically pull a bundle of covers up and over his head completely, and he slid down deeper into the bed with the action. It was apparently fucking cold. With only a little more flopping, Carter again lay still.

Several minutes later, Norman felt the hand sliding up his thigh, slowly, warmly, up to his hip, where a finger then hooked into the waistband of his underwear, slowly pulled, and then let it snap audibly against his skin.

Norman had been smiling all the way through the action, right up until the very end. He made a surprised noise and glared at the lump under the covers that was Carter. Sitting up, Norman yanked back the blanket and promptly swatted Carter with the classifieds he had been reading. "Morning, princess. You get your beauty sleep yet?"

Carter was too slow to block the swat. He blamed the sudden cold shock.

"Looks like you got far too little." Carter clearly remembered that comeback he had received before, and it had been weeks ago. "I'm kidding, of course."

Carter slid away to the other edge of the bed before he got hit again, taking the sheets with him to the floor. Carter then stretched his muscles and sat up, rubbing a hand through his short hair. He stood up, and started off for the bathroom to get himself a shower.

Norman watched Carter leave, his eyes lingering a bit longer on his ass than they needed to. He licked his lips, smirked, and set his paper down on the bed. He invited himself into the bathroom. Wrapping his arms around Carter from behind, Norman kissed a bit at the back of his neck. "Hi."

Carter's first reaction was to look right at the bathroom mirror to get a look at this.

And he saw the height difference.

God damn it.

"Right, long time no see."

Carter bent slightly forward and leaned to reach for the shower faucet so he wouldn't have to break away from Norman just yet.

Norman waited for Carter to stand straight again, then moved so he was in front of him and wrapped his arms around his neck. He leaned in, brushing their lips together but not actually kissing just yet. He felt a warm rush just from feeling Carter's breath. He finally closed those last few millimeters.

Carter returned the kiss, short but sweet. He didn't expect Norman to be quite this affectionate. Maybe it was because they were a new thing.

Oh god, they were a _thing_ now. That...

Was pretty okay.

"Unless you're gonna be my loofah..." Carter pat his hands on Norman's hips, giving the bones a slight rub before pushing himself away. He still had sweat on him from a day of work and... other activities. He couldn't see why Norman would want to still be hanging off him.

He got into the hot shower. He'd make it brief.

"Tempting as that is," Norman called over the sound of the rushing water. "I know for a fact that two people in the same slippery shower is a horrible idea. I'll hop in when you're done though."

Norman pulled the curtain aside just barely an inch to peek in at Carter before smiling to himself and going back into the room. He gathered up Carter's clothes from the various places they had landed the night before. After folding them as neatly as he could, Norman took them into the bathroom and set them next to the sink for when Carter was finished.

Carter took his shower trying not to think about how Norman knew that. Maybe it was a hilarious homicide case or something. Even if Norman was a criminal profiler. And, apparently, a homosexual-

Okay, right, shower.

When he was sure he rinsed himself off well enough to be a presentable human being, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel.

He stared at his folded clothes the entire time he dried off.

With a little self-pity, a tiny bit of disgust, and a whole lot of irony, Carter thought about the distinct lack of women he'd slept with that did the same thing. Even the ones more attached to him and less interested in one night stands weren't so...

So...

Carter didn't have the words to describe Norman anymore.

Before he got anymore twitterpated with this nonsense, Carter carried on through his routine: piss, half dress, curse he couldn't shave, bust out the door with the rest of his clothes in hand just so Norman could get a look at him first, and then throw on the last of his clothes.

For the last few minutes, Norman had been sitting on the bed, paper in his lap, staring dead ahead at the closet as if he had the x-ray vision to see his neat little vials all lined up in his bag. With Carter in the shower and therefor minus a distraction, that itch had started to come back.

He had cut back his use, but everything was still planned around a schedule of when he got to use again. The anticipation almost made it better in a sick way, but now that he was so far off the agenda his body was starting to rebel.  Figures the second he was about to fling himself at the closet, Carter strolled gloriously out of the bathroom.

"Probably should drop me off at my place." Carter thought about putting on his tie, but he wasn't going to put in that much effort. He instead folded and rolled it as small as he could get and sought to shove it into his jacket.

Norman glanced up an and instantly forced a perfect smile as he watched Carter finish dressing. Funny, he could almost assume the other man did that on purpose. Had he been in a better state of mind he would have made a joke. He busied his hands with folding up the paper so they wouldn't start shaking again. Ignoring the fact he was folding so recklessly the edges had torn, he turned to teasing Carter.

"Oh I see. You like to hit-and-run?"

"Right, were you expecting to ever meet my girlfriend?" Carter was ready to go, but knew Norman wanted to shower, too. He took a seat in the chair their coats had been in, draping both of them over each other on the back of the chair. "Sorry to disappoint you."

Norman slipped out of the bed, still in his underwear and with a white shirt pulled on for warmth as he had been waiting. He'd planned on taking a shower, but now thinking about it, slick, wet water touching his skin sounded like an awful idea. Sneaking into the bathroom with his bag, however…

"She must not be a very good girlfriend, if you're staying out at night to fuck other men." Norman was grinning as he gathered some clean clothes together.

It would be less suspicious if he hid the tripto in his clothes instead of dragging the whole bag.

No, he couldn't actually be considering getting well with Carter on the other side of the wall. But what choice did he have? To deal with it, that's what. He could have almost snapped the bottle in his grip as he shoved it between the folds of his clothes.

"Or a fantastic one." Carter fetched his cell phone and buried his attention into that while Norman went about his business.

Inside the bathroom, Norman pulled the vial back out and dumped his clothes to the floor. The tap in the shower squeaked as he arbitrarily turned the dial. There was no reason to pay attention to the temperature, he had no intention of actually bathing yet.

Norman sat on the closed seat of the toilet, vial sloshing happily in his palm.

Hello. We meet again. I knew you couldn't stay away.

Norman bit the inside of his lip until he tasted blood, glaring at the drug. Barbed wire fought in his throat. All he needed was just a little bit. Enough to feel okay. Enough to not ruin this semi-perfect illusion of a good day with Carter.

Carter.

If he knew what Norman was doing in here...

Norman honestly couldn't think of which would be worse, doing drugs with Carter in the other room or being obviously sick with withdrawal. Not that he hadn't done both of those things before. More than once.

And Carter still stayed. Put up with him. Cared about him.

But now that things were different and they were... they had a relationship now, sort of. And here Norman was popping open another vial to help ruin the one fucking honest thing he had.

He was shaking, and he jumped up, seething at his own mess of a reflection. Just to taunt him more, a thin stream of blood began to seep out of his nose.

The vial glowed in the mirror image.

It's never going to stop.

Norman let out a rage-filled shout and flung the bottle at himself. The glass shattered, sending blue spraying everywhere and leaving a crackling indent in the mirror. His fingers found his hair and his knees found the floor and in his fried nerves he felt the agony of victory.

What the hell?

Carter's attention was pulled towards the bathroom. He waited (against his gut feeling) for a moment, but nothing happened. His eyes didn't move away from the door as he turned off his phone's screen and slipped it into his pocket as he stood up.

He considered knocking, and probably should just to be polite, because yeah he just _fucked_ the man behind the door last night but that wasn't an excuse to be rude, but Carter opened the door anyway without warning.

He sort of expected this... that being Norman having some sort of breakdown of whatever kind, and it was better than seeing him passed out on the floor because he tripped or slipped or something obnoxious, but what Carter didn't expect was all of the weird blue shit that was everywhere and could only be one thing.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck..." Carter rolled his entire head, enunciating how ridiculous this situation was. "Jayden..."

Norman's heart stopped. He ran a hand over his face, trying to remove the tears and blood but it all just kept coming and he wanted to just sink right through the floor in that moment.

"I..." He coughed to find his voice, not daring to look up from the tiles.

What a wonderful disaster.

"I'm withdrawing. I didn't get high. And..." His voice broke a little. "I'm sorry."

He had to laugh.

"I just wanted everything to be perfect."

A breath caught up in Carter. Oh, Jayden... he shook his head.

Then he took a step into the bathroom and kneeled carefully beside Norman, putting a hand on the center of his back gently.

Really, if he took the time to think about it, it wasn't too unlike having to deal with certain homicide cases. The ones left behind, mostly, or just the innocent. He may have been the Office Asshole, but he wasn't completely heartless. He just saw a lot of shit in a day most people should never have to see.

Or experience.

Or feel...

Carter wanted to open his mouth again to say something, but the only words that would come to him was Norman's name. Carter kept quiet. He rubbed his hand up and down Norman's back for a moment and gave it a soft pat. Then he leaned to grab a towel, his hand still on Norman's back.

"We'll deal with it, Norman."

Norman's pulse quickened, not only because Carter wasn't currently punching his brains out for being an idiot, but also the slight dread of knowing he really did have to commit to getting clean now. His shaking hand found Carter's arm and clutched.

"I don't know if I can."

Norman's voice was small and honest and fucking terrified. Each breath he took was on a shiver.

"I don't..."

Norman lost his words on purpose.

Carter moved his hand away from Norman and used the towel to start soaking up the splashed back drug before it got on his clothes.

He didn't push Norman away. His hand pressed against Norman's cheek and jaw, trying to get Norman to look up at him. His thumb moved in soft strokes against Norman's face, not wanting to force Norman to do something he didn't really want to just yet. His hand moved behind Norman's ear, at his neck, fingers stroking at the back of Norman's head. Carter pet Norman's hair, just at the ends, feeling how soft it was.

He noticed a drop of blood on the towel and it pulled Carter back immediately to the real situation at hand.

"You okay?" Carter kept his voice as calm and normal as he could, even if normal for him seemed to be closer to annoyed and condescending than it ever was to concern and everything else he really felt right now. "Get hurt on anything?"

Carter offered Norman the towel. Seems like he was going to get charged a fee from the hotel for stolen items because Carter wasn't about to let a triptocaine- and blood-soaked towel be left behind, even if they tried washing it out. He'd worked with forensic teams before. That shit was hard to hide.

Norman dabbed at his nose and sighed. "Just my own ignorance."

Norman tried a smile, failed, but did manage to finally look to Carter. That odd warm feeling came back; and he finally, fully realized what it was: Love. God, he’d loved Carter for so long.

"I should have just told you."

Carter shoved the towel into Norman's face so he wouldn't have to see the blood and tears. As long as there wasn't glass or something, that should be safe.

"We gotta get this shit cleaned up because you know some asshole's going to figure out who we are, and I'm not interested in the front page news reading about how a police lieutenant and an FBI agent got caught fucking and getting high on drugs, okay?"

The way it rolled off his tongue, Carter realized somebody could make the connection to at least part of that scenario.

Best not think about it and get to work.

"Sounds like a story I'd like to read." Norman finished cleaning off his face, grinning a little bit. His hands were shaking and he still felt sick and he sure as hell wasn't feeling like cleaning. But it was his own damn fault. And Carter had a point.

Norman finally reached into the shower and shut the water off, resigning himself to just being dirty for the day. Then Norman slowly began to clean up the best he could, tossing the towel at the sink once it was sufficiently covered in filth.

He was panting just from the little bit of exertion. "Looks like my other plans for this weekend will have to wait."

"I'd ask, but..." Carter shrugged.

He stood in the doorway, placing his hands on his hips. The bathroom might not be glowing blue with magical drug juice anymore, but it was still a pitiful sight to behold, given the memory he now had attached to it.

Was it supposed to be that way? A quick shot in the dark to cure their obviously pent up lust, then what? That had to be a full vial, or close to it. There'd only be one reason to even pack that in the first place.

Carter turned around, scratching at the back of his head, staring at the floor. He was being ridiculous and probably just playing into the self destruction without even knowing it.

"Can't say I'm sorry for the intervention." Carter turned back to look at Norman. "I'll throw you the party later, okay?"

"I'm not really into parties anymore anyway." Norman dragged himself to the nearby plush chair, collapsing into it like his body was made of bricks. He felt like death, probably looked even worse, but somehow also felt... happy? Content? Maybe a little proud. That thin thread of hope that he could actually do this.

He looked to Carter.

"I wouldn't blame you for backing out of this now." Whatever 'this' was he still couldn't, or didn't want to, decide. "Damaged goods and all, you know."

Norman flicked his hand, like he were presenting himself on some cheesy game show.

Carter hadn't actually taken his eyes off of Norman once. He looked Norman up and down with just his eyes a moment.

"...Yeah well I'll suck your cock later let's get going."

Carter very quickly went about gathering his things with his back turned to Norman.

"Ready when you are."

Norman blinked once, very slowly, and his lips bunched tightly to keep him from grinning too obnoxiously. He got out of the chair and pulled on the barest of essential clothing he needed for the weather. He did remember his gloves this time. He didn't dare to glance at his reflection right now. Once ready, he headed over to Carter, sliding a gloved palm right over the shorter man's rear.

"I'll hold you to that, you know."

Norman pulled his hand away and headed for the door.

…

Lots of women had touched Carter’s butt before. Never a man. Not like _that_ anyway.

Carter brushed the situation off pointedly and walked ahead of Norman, going straight for the garage since Norman didn't bring his bags or anything like that with him.

"You could, uh," Carter hesitated a brief moment before crossing into much more public space, "have stayed at my place, you know... still could. If you didn't already pay the weekend or something."

Norman felt his stomach flutter. He already had paid for the weekend, but decided not to divulge that information. Carter had just given him the invitation to stay with him and he sure as hell wasn't going to let a little bit of money spoil that. He also wasn't going to jump at the chance either. Best not look to eager.

"I'll keep that in mind."

Norman shivered the second they were outside, the ice cold air stinging right through his hypersensitive skin.

"Ugh, this is awful." Norman pulled his coat tighter. "You might have to drive."

"Seriously?" Carter looked over his shoulder at Norman.

Sure, he felt bad for Norman, but it was pretty hard to hide his excitement at the idea of driving that car.

"Nah, I can't do that," Carter kept walking. It was probably fake modesty, but he wasn't about to run ahead and tackle a man's fancy sports car. "Unless you're positive you'll kill us both."

Norman had meant it as a joke, really. He never let anyone drive his car, not even valets. He was sure he wouldn't even let his own mother drive it. God damn it, though, Carter's excitement was adorable, no matter how much the older man hid it. His gloved fingers felt along the keys in his pocket as he stood in front of the car. It was the closest thing he had to a child, seriously. He loved that damn car.

He looked to Carter, paused a moment, then took out his keys.

"I'm in no shape to drive. Here." He tossed them to Carter and stepped towards the passenger side.

Carter kept a level attitude as he caught the keys. He went without complaint to the driver's side and looked at the keys, then unlocked the car.

If asked, Carter wouldn't have been able to put into words what it was like to look into that perfect interior and climb into the driver's seat. He closed the door softly, enough just to get it closed, and took a moment to take in everything. His legs were pretty far from the pedals, or so it felt. Norman must drive slouched like some kind of cool kid.

Carter would have, too, if he owned this car.

"Sorry," Carter half-heartedly apologized as he moved the seat forward. He'd leave the rest of the adjustments alone.

Maybe if things were slightly different between them, he'd be the asshole that adjusted every little thing for a one time drive. Carter put the key in the ignition and turned on the engine. It was like he felt the power run through him at the sound it made as it came to life. He was certainly jealous.

A tiny part of him laughed inside because he was nearly convinced he didn't _have_ to be anymore after last night.

It took Norman several tries to figure out the passenger seat adjustment, both out of unfamiliarity and sheer nerves. He still wasn't going to take it back though. There was a weird feeling mixed in with all of this illness and anxiety. He trusted Carter. More than he had trusted anyone in a long time. He wasn't going to embarrass himself by saying so out loud. Plus it would feel nice to sit back and rest while he was going through this impromptu detox. Provided he could relax first.

"I got this." Carter spoke in a confident and reassuring voice.

Carter kept his eyes ahead of him as he felt out with his hand for Norman's thigh, giving him a pat just above the knee that lasted just a bit longer than it really had to.

Carter did drive carefully, and although certainly lost in the beginning given the hotel's location, they were on familiar roads soon enough, headed for Carter's place.

"I'd like to give this a ride again," Carter mused out loud, now on the street he lived. It had been a relatively quiet drive.

Carter pulled into the narrow driveway, planning to hide Norman's car the same way he usually did his own, and hoping that neighbors didn't notice the sudden arrival of this sex machine.

"Try not to puke this time."

"I make no guarantees." Norman smirked and got out of the car.

He may have given her a once-over, for any signs of scratches or dents or other debris that would give him a reason not to let Carter drive her again. Nothing. Guess he'd have to really trust him. Norman shivered and shuffled his way to Carter's door, praying the inside was much warmer. He'd much rather be sweating this awfulness out.

Carter now had two sets of keys with him. It felt ridiculous. He unlocked the front door and invited Norman to step inside first.

"Home sweet home," he smirked. Once they were both inside, he shrugged out of his coat and hung it up by the door.

Carter kicked off his shoes, and looked at Norman. He wanted to say something like make yourself at home, or get comfortable, mi casa su casa, but nothing came. Carter looked away again and just let Norman figure that one out. He moved a few steps more to the thermostat to up the heat.

The anxiety was weaning a bit, though Norman couldn't tell if it was because he felt comfortable in Carter's presence, or if the craving was dying because he knew he couldn't get a fix. Maybe both. He took off his gloves and shoved them into his pockets and walked into Carter's living room. At first he sat down and tried to stay proper-but-casual looking. That lasted for maybe a second before he just let himself slump over and use the armrest of the sofa as pillow with a soft groan.

"Use this."

A blanket came sailing from the air and landed with a dull thump on top of Norman.

Carter seemed to be okay with their little vacation time consisting of Norman sleeping on his god damned couch. It was better than Ash whining about his lack of sporting interest on the television, as entertaining as that could be at times.

Norman sat up and wrapped the blanket around him, still leaving all his layers of clothing on despite feeling like he was starting to sweat. He curled back up on the couch and looked over to Carter.

"Thanks." He paused. "You wanna, you know... you can come sit next to me and watch TV or something. It's not like I'm contagious or something."

He most definitely wasn't going to tell Carter he wanted him to stay close because he really wanted someone to hold him right now.

Carter wasn't exactly used to that. Any time he met a drug addict they were either dead or arrested. He felt his heart sink at that description... the fact that he just put Norman into the category of an addict. Carter held back a sigh and wordlessly pulled at the blanket.

"Gimme that," Carter nearly manhandled Norman to remove his coat. "It'll be more comfortable without it in the way, okay."

Carter got his way and tossed the coat over the back of the couch.

"You look like you feel like shit, Norman." Carter chose his words a little carefully that time.

Carter was already kneeling on the couch. He sat down on a leg on one end of the couch. He was originally going to do other... things, but they didn't matter anymore. Carter yanked again on the blanket just as Norman was starting to get settled in again and pulled Norman against him. He wrapped a strong arm around Norman.

It reminded him an awful lot like that one night weeks ago, trying to track down that kidnapper and killer, and Carter faced the other drug addict he shot dead and would shoot dead again and again for whatever he did and was planning to do with Norman. Carter didn't like the similarities that were starting to line up, and he held Norman a little tighter.

Norman couldn't tell what Carter was thinking. What he did know was Carter was being awfully, well, affectionate. He had to try really hard not to grin or laugh and ruin the moment.

Norman more than happily snuggled up, resting his head on Carter's shoulder and sliding his thin arms around his waist. He could get used to this, he thought, minus the withdrawal of course. He sighed contentedly and whispered: "Thank you."

"Just don't puke on me."

"No guarantees."

Carter gave a laugh. He'd just have to work with it.


End file.
